H 


SAND 


AFD 


BIG  JACK  SMALL 


BY 


J.  W.  GALLY. 


CHICAGO : 
BELFORD,   CLARKE   &   CO., 

1880. 


COPYRIGHTED. 

BELFORD,   CLARKE  &  CO., 

1880. 


PRINTED  AND  BOUND 

BY 

DONOHUE  &  HENNEBERRY, 


Library 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

CHAPTER    I.                                         ...  9 

CHAPTER  II.                                 -              -              ,;  31 

CHAPTER  III.                         ...  72 

CHAPTER  IV.                   ....  116 

CHAPTER  V.  -              -              -              -              -  148 

CHAPTER  VI.                  ....  174 

BIG  JACK  SMALL,  -             -             .             .  199 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


'"THREE  CHEERS  FOR  THE  BOSS  PASSENGER,"  Frontispiece. 

"  GIMME  A  FDST  RATE  SEEGAR,"       -  -       64 

JUDITH  HOLTEN  AND  NORMAN  MATDOLE,  JR.,  112 

NORMAN  AND  "CussiN  JACK,"  -      128 

BIG  JACK  SMALL,      -         -  199 

5 


*'  Sand"  was  first  published  in  the  new  Pacific  slope  maga- 
zine, "JThe  Californian,"  and,  as  a  serial,  received  very  flattering 
criticisms  from  the  press  of  the  whole  country. 


SAND. 


"  Who  so  shall  telle  a  tale  after  a  man, 
He  moste  reherse,  as  neighe  as  ever  he  can, 
Everich  word,  if  it  be  in  his  charge, 
All  speke  he  never  so  rudely  and  so  large; 
Or  elles  he  moste  tellen  his  tale  untrewe 
Or  feinen  thinegs,  or  finden  wordes  newe." 

Chaucer. 


SAND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MOUNTAIN  BROW,  CAL.,  June  3,  187-. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  FRIEND  :— I  canuot,  at  this  moment,  recall  the 
date  of  my  latest  letter  to  you,  yet  I  distinctly  remember  that  I 
did  write  to  you  at  some  period  of  time  not  strictly  prehistoric ; 
but  whether  it  was  that  I  penned  my  epistle  in  answer  to  some- 
thing, or  desiring  that  something  should  be  answered,  I  know 
not,  and,  indeed,  do  not  care;  because,  as  I  look  upon  it,  the  an. 
tiquity  and  proximity  of  our  friendship  is  equal  to  a  waiver  of 
ceremony.  If,  lang  syne,  among  the  bowlders  and  paygrit  of 
Squally  Flat,  I  had  not  learned  by  heart  that  you  were  one  of 
God's  own  in  every  depth  of  good  friendship,  save  the  expressing 
of  it,  I  should  think  you  were  turned  cavalier,  and  prone  to  ride 
by  your  old  friend  on  your  successful  money-getting  hobby ;  but 
my  head,  which  is  rapidly  taking  on  the  gray  thatch  of  declining 
life,  tells  me  that  yours  is  a  nature  no  more  to  be  spoiled  by 
wealth  than  daunted  by  poverty.  When  I  think  of  you  I  can  not 
fail  to  recall  poor  old  Rocky weller  (you  do  not  forget  him?),  or 
rather  his  pet  speech  when  he  was  spreeing  on  Squally.  You  can 
not  have  forgotten  how  he  used  to  come  to  his  cabin  door  on  the 
hill-side,  in  the  early  morning,  and  address  the  general  camp  in 
these  words,  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice:  "Whoop  la!  God 
hates  a  coward,  sir,  and  you  can't  hurt  a  Christian.  Never  try 
to  crawl  when  you're  broke,  nor  to  fly  when  you're  flush,  sir, 
and  you  may  be  happy  yet,  sir.  Amen,  sir!"  After  which  Mo- 
hammedanized  Christian  salutation  to  the  morn,  he  softly  closed 
his  cabin  door  behind  him,  and  carefully  walked  down  the  trail 
to  the  saloon  for  his  earliest  libation.  You  always  seem  to  me  to 
be  an  embodiment  of  Rockyweller's  creed.  And  now  they  tell  me 

9 


10  SAND. 

you  are  the  master  of  millions  of  dollars.  How  strangely  ro- 
mantic is  real  life!  To-day  we  weep  upon  our  mother's  breast 
and  take  her  parting  kiss,  close  behind  us  is  the  humble  gate  of 
home,  and,  gazing  through  unusual  tears,  bid  old  familiar  scenes 
farewell ;  to-morrow  and  to-morrow  stretch  before  us  on  the  road, 
till  we  travel  into  manhood  and  its  trials;  then  the  early  grave  for 
one,  wrecked  life  for  another,  quiet  success  for  a  third,  and  so  on, 
up  and  down,  the  line  of  registry  runs,  till  at  length  one  of  a  thou- 
sand astonishes  himself  and  everybody  else  by  becoming  re- 
nowned for  wealth  or  wisdom.  Strange — strange  indeed,  and  the 
more  I  dwell  upon  it,  the  more  strange  it  seems  to  me !  I  never 
expected  that  you,  among  all  the  boys  who  crossed  the  plains  in 
1850  in  our  train,  would  be  famous  for  anything ;  but  at  the  same 
time,  also,  people  were  not  looking  to  Sangamon  County,  Illinois, 
for  a  President  of  the  United  States.  The  wisdom  which  seeks  to 
forecast  the  career  of  a  baby  is  less  reliable  than  the  baby  is. 
Prophecy,  to  use  a  neat  vulgarism,  is  played  out.  Nothing  is 
more  novel  than  reality.  Success  is  always  surprising.  Having 
said  thus  much  about  you,  and  it  is,  I  assure  you,  but  a  slight  in- 
stallment of  what  I  am  frequently  thinking,  I  will  proceed,  with 
your  leave,  to  talk  of  myself,  and  my  belongings. 

I  am  not  at  all  glorious,  or  in  any  way  distinguished ;  but  I 
may  fairly  say,  that,  take  my  circumstances  altogether,  I  am 
happy.  We— that  is,  the  other  goodly  half  and  myself— we  jog 
along;  and  to  me — likewise,  as  I  fully  believe,  also  to  her — each 
new  day  that  we  are  permitted,  by  the  great  goodness  of  Divinity, 
to  continue  together  is  an  additional  coinage  from  the  mint  of 
solid  satisfaction.  I  have  not,  as  you  know,  much  wealth — never 
was  meant  to  be  that  way — but  my  children,  though  rather  numer- 
ous, are  greatly  satisfying  to  me.  I  think,  moreover,  and  really 
hope,  that  I  am  not  declining  in  the  esteem  of  my  neighbors. 
You,  with  the  other  "  boys"  in  our  claim  on  Squally  Flat,  used  to 
think  I  was  a  brilliant  fellow.  That  was  a  mistake.  Brilliant 
people  rarely  wear  well,  while,  on  the  contrary,  I  seem  to  find 
that  I  ripen  slowly,  but  surely,  into  public  favor — in  my  small 
way.  So  far  as  I  can  observe,  none  of  my  children  are  defective 
in  any  way— they  are  all  shapely,  lithe,  supple,  quick  of  foot  and 


SAND.  11 

apprehension.  Their  mother  guides  them  without  goad  or  rein,, 
and  I  curb  them  with  a  look  or  shake  of  the  head,  and  nothing 
pleases  them  better  than  to  hear  me  descant  upon 

"  The  days  of  old— the  days  of  gold— 
In  the  days  of  forty-nine," 

in  which  stories  you  yourself,  mine  ancient  pard,  sometimes  figure 
as  the  hero. 

My  eldest  boy,  who  is  now  a  man,  seems  to  take  deep  and  partic- 
ular interest  in  the  old  times.  Query.— Can  it  be  that  a  parent 
may  beget  his  impressions?  Is  it  a  reality  that  the  sour  fruit  in 
the  mouth  of  the  parent  sets  the  teeth  of  the  unborn  upon  edge, 
and  vice  versa  as  to  sweet  fruit  ?  Well,  well !  However  this  query 
may  be  answered,  there  is  another  query  which  I  must  soon  essay 
to  answer.  My  boy  wants  to  plunge  into  the  tide  of  life  and  strike 
out  for  himself;  and,  but  for  the  shadow  on  his  mother's  brow 
and  the  quiver  on  her  lip,  when  the  matter  is  spoken  of,  I  could  be 
well  satisfied  to  launch  him,  and  let  him  go.  I  cannot  guide  him 
forever,  you  know;  and  I  feel  sure  that  he  will  pursue  quite  a& 
virtuous  a  course  while  the  earth  is  under  my  feet  as  he  will  with 
part  of  it  over  my  head.  And  now,  that  I  think  of  it,  I  will  give 
you  a  brief  schedule  of  his  accomplishments  and  traits,  so  that 
mayhap  and  God  willing,  you  may  see  some  place  that  he  will 
fit  into,  and  let  me  know  of  it.  He  is  neither  tall  nor  large,  is 
rery  neat  in  his  person,  is  said  to  have  a  handsome  face,  with  earn- 
est dark  brown  eyes,  like  his  mother's.  He  is  every  way  shapely, 
save  and  except  that  his  arms  are  a  trifle  long,  and  his  hands, 
though  elegantly  shaped,  are  about  one  or  two  sizes  larger  than  a 
strictly  aristocratic  taste  would  desire.  His  voice  is  soft  and  very 
clear,  his  enunciation  distinct  and  deliberate.  He  is  less  of  a 
talker  than  his  father,  though  he  is  a  better  talker  when  stirred 
up  to  it.  His  manners  are  grave  and  quiet  for  one  of  his  years; 
he  can  sit  or  stand  perfectly  still  in  any  company,  and  listen  with- 
out embarrassment;  that,  you  know,  has  always  been  one  of  my 
tests  of  gentlemanliness.  He  has  good  English  and  good  com- 
mercial education,  with  a  large  fund  of  miscellaneous  information. 
His  penmanship  is  round,  smooth,  and  characteristic  of  controlled 
and  controllable  nerve  force.  His  morals,  I  believe,  are  good* 


12  SAND. 

and  I  know  that  his  courage  is,  and  ever  from  infancy  was,  un- 
doubted. He  is  ambitious,  and  hopes  to  make  his  way  into  some 
line  of  business  which  has  a  future  to  it.  From  my  long  experi- 
ence as  Clerk  of  the  Court,  I  had  hoped  my  oldest  son  would  be  a 
lawyer  during  my  lifetime;  but  he  shows,  as  yet,  no  taste  for  law. 
I,  however,  have  other  sons,  perhaps,  to  "  comfort  my  old  age." 
Of  course,  you  well  know  that  I  desire  you  not  to  embarrass 
yourself  in  any  way  on  account  of  old  times,  and  if  my  boy  does 
not  seem  to  fit  into  some  place  now  open,  I  ask  you,  as  an  old 
friend,  to  drop  the  matter  right  there,  and  we  will  say  no  more 
about  it. 

Although  this  is  a  long  letter,  I  do  not  feel  weary  with  writing 
it,  and  entertain  a  hope  that  you  will  not  weary  in  the  reading  of 
it.  I  could  tell  you  many  things  about  domestic  politics,  but 
such  things  no  longer  hold  a  first  place  in  your  attention,  or  in- 
deed in  the  attention  of  strong,  active  natures  all  over  our  great 
Union,  and,  I  may  add,  with  a  seeming  slang  phrase,  "that's 
what's  the  matter."  But,  even  if  I  do  not  write  politics  or  send 
you  important  news,  I  think  we  of  the  old  school  should  still, 
from  time  to  time,  drop  each  other  a  letter,  because  the  day  is  not 
a  long  way  oft'  when  we  will  not  be  able  to  reach  each  other  by 
mail  or  telegram.  Let  me  hope,  however,  that  when  that  day 
comes  we  will  be  blissfully  near  enough  to  need  no  artificial  com- 
munication for  evermore. 

My  wife  and  nest  of  little  ones,  like  the  four  and  twenty  black- 
birds when  the  pie  was  opened,  are  ready  to  sing  before  your 
majesty  if  you  will  accept  my  oft  repeated  and  always  standing 
invitation  to  come  and  see  us. 

Give  the  love  of  us  all  to  all  there  is  of  you  and  yours,  and  per- 
mit  me  to  remain,  in  the  homeliest  way, 

Heartily,  your  friend, 

NORMAN  MAYDOLE. 

In  answer  to  the  above  there  carne,  in  due  time,  the 
following  brief  epistolary  dash: 

.    S.  F.,  Cal.,JunelO,  187-. 

VERY  DEAR  OLD  PARD:— I  read  your  letter  to  my  household. 
We  all  enjoyed  it.  Write  often.  God  bless  you  every  one.  We 


8  A  N  D.  13 

ought  to  be  more  personally  intimate ;  but  you're  too  proud  to 
visit  the  house  of  what  you  call  a  rich  man,  and  Pin  too  busy  to 
go  anywhere  off  the  treadmill.  Send  that  boy  to  me  right  off. 
Tell  his  mother  we  will  be  good  to  him. 

In  haste,  yours  to  command, 

HOLTEN. 

Mrs.  Maydole  was  a  good  mother,  and,  although 
she  had  a  deal  of  regular  and  miscellaneous  mother- 
ing to  do,  still  preserved  to  herself  that  quiet  way 
which  wise  mothers  have  of  appreciating  character 
among  her  offspring.  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  her 
eldest,  differed  enough  from  Norman  Maydole,  Sr., 
and  differed  in  such  manner  as  almost,  if  not  quite, 
to  fill  in  her  heart  the  vacant  margin  unfilled  by 
the,  to  her,  shortcomings  in  the  character  of  Norman 
Maydole,  Sr.  She  thought  she  saw  in  her  son  the 
ideal  manhood  which  floated  through  her  love-lit 
fancy  when  she  was  Martha  Aiken.  She  knew  that 
in  this  boy  was  a  nature  stronger  than  his  father's — 
a  nature  which  might,  perforce  of  circumstances,  serve 
faithfully,  but  which  must  ere  long  rule  or  ruin  for 
itself;  she  at  once  trembled  inwardly  at,  and  secretly 
delighted  in,  the  developing,  but  not  to  all  mani- 
fest, power  of  her  boy. 

With  loving  haste,  yet  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and 
voice,  she  made  him  ready  for  his  departure,  and  grew 
firmer  in  purpose  as  the  hour  drew  nigh  to  bid  him 
farewell.  She  did  not  burthen  his  parting  moments 
with  prayers  or  advice;  but  held  up  to  his  kiss  all  the 
little  faces  of  the  house,  and  finally,  after  all,  she  came 
to  embrace  him  softly  and  quietly,  and  kiss  him  good- 
bye. 


14:  SAND. 

Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  will  never  be  able  to  say 
precisely  what  he  thought  as  he  sat  with  the  driver 
on  "the  outside,"  and  coached  away  down  the  moun- 
tain road.  Yet  he  did  a  deal  of  thinking  one  way 
and  another;  but  he  could  not  realize  that  home  for 
him  would  stop  right  there,  and  never  more  grow 
from  that  point;  while,  of  course,  he  could  not  com- 
prehend his  changing  future;  yet  it  was  this  home 
and  this  future  which  were  dancing  incomprehensible 
quadrilles  through  his  head. 

It  was  a  cool,  bracing  morning  in  a  climate  where 
the  seasons  are  inextricably  mixed  after  sundown,  and 
often  not  entirely  defined  in  broad  daylight.  Just 
such  a  morning  as  that  in  which  the  average  coach- 
horse  nips  the  nose  of  his  span-fellow,  and  prances  out 
of  town  in  a  manner  at  once  arch  and  active,  which 
seems  to  say  to  the  admiring  school-boy  who  "creeps 
lazily:"  "Ha,  ha!  Little  fellow,  couldn't  we  give 
these  passengers  a  merry  fright,  if  we  chose  to  take 
into  our  teeth  these  palty  bridle-bits?"  This  is  the 
time  when  the  driver  arranges  and  hefts  his  lines, 
poises  and  balances  his  whip,  pushes  his  brake-lever 
back  and  forth  with  his  off  foot,  looks  down  at  the 
double-trees,  then  back  over  the  top  of  his  coach,  then 
heft's  his  lines  again,  and  says: 

"Yait!" 

And  away  they  go  in  gay  style — no  sprawling. 

Norman  knew  this  driver;  not  as  many  village 
boys  did,  by  hanging  around  the  stables  watching  the 
rubbing  down  of  the  stock,  and  longing  to  take  a 


SAND.  15 

hand  at  the  rubbing,  but  by  having  seen  him  call  at 
the  house  for  or  with  passengers;  arid  the  driver  had, 
with  stage  driver's  horsey  observation,  measured  the 
young  man,  and  put  him  down  in  his  mental  note- 
book as  a  "  high-toned,  'way  up  young  feller;"  and 
this  driver,  when  off  duty,  had  met  Norman  in  the 
village  escorting  some  of  the  most  beautiful,  elegant, 
well-bred  young  ladies  in  the  county,  and  if  there 
is  anything  that  at  once  awes  and  wins  upon  a 
horsey  man,  it  is  his  acknowledged  superior  among 
the  ladies.  Indeed,  one  is  prone  to  judge  that  no 
man  can  be  a  Methodist  minister,  or  professional 
stage  driver,  without  possessing  a  deep  and  abiding 
admiration  for  the  fair  sex.  Nothing  but  this  great 
motive  could  reconcile  a  rational  human  being  to  a 
life  so  exciting,  so  nomadic,  so  ill  requited. 

"Goin'  to  kulledge,  young  man?"  queried  the 
driver,  as  the  team  was  slowed  down  to  climb  a  grade. 

"  Not  at  present,"  Norman  responded. 

"  Goin5  down  to  the  bay?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Ther's  whur  you  see  something,"  and  he  was  em- 
phatic on  the  "  see." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Norman,  dryly. 

"Gals!  Ooh-oo-ooh!"  and  the  driver  hefted  his 
lines  again,  crossed  his  legs,  and  gave  his  long  whip- 
lash a  twirl  of  great  facetiousness,  ending  with  a  light, 
humorous  snap — a  sort  of  audible  wink. 

Norman  being  a  young  man  naturally  and  habitu- 
ally scrupulous  in  the  weight  of  language,  and  never 


16  SAND. 

having  had  any  experience  in  such  a  descriptive 
phrase  as  "  Ooh-oo-ooh,"  carefully  held  his  peace. 

"  Goin'  to  be  one  o'  them  spry  young  fellers  what 
skeets  'round  for  a  broker's  office,  p'haps?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"  "Well,  excuse  me,  young  feller;  I  don't  want  to 
dig  into  your  private  biz;  I'm  only  talkiri'  for  soci- 
able." 

This  mark  of  respectful  acutenesswas  instinctively 
accepted  and  responded  to  by  Norman. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do  in  San  Francisco. 
I'm  going  to  seek  my  fortune." 

"What!  Row  with  the  old  man?  Off  on  your 
ear?" 

"No;  nothing  of  that  kind." 

"  I  might  'a'  knowed  that,  if  I  wasn't  a  damn  fool. 
Your  father's  a  gen'lem'n — he  don't  row  with  no- 
body." 

"Thank  you,"  responded  Norman,  with  more  in- 
terest than  he  had  before  manifested. 

"  Lord,  yes,  I've  voted  for  your  father,  and  he's 
swore  me  in  court.  You  rec'clect  that? — time  Jim 
Clem  cut  Fancy  Irvin,  what  used  to  drive  the  dapple 
grays." 

Norman  did  not  remember  the  trial,  because  trials 
at  law  were  too  numerous  in  the  clerical  life  of  his 
home  to  demand  special  remembrance;  while  with 
the  driver  it  was  different,  as  the  most  distinguished 
epoch  in  his  career  was  his  appearance  as  prosecuting 
witness  in  the  State  of  California  versus  James  Clem. 


SAND.  17 

The  coach  was  not  heavily  laden,  having  only  six 
"insides,"  and  one  on  top;  so  the  team  bowled  mer- 
rily along  through  leafy  canons  and  over  dusty  sum- 
mits, up  hill  slowly  and  down  hill  rapidly,  till  the 
growing  day,  warmed  with  the  cloudless  sky  and 
strengthening  sun,  suggested  to  Norman  to  draw  off 
his  overcoat,  and  as  he  was  so  doing,  the  driver,  hav- 
ing observed  the  action,  remarked: 

"  D'ye  allers  go  heeled?" 

"  Very  seldom,"  answered  Norman,  placing  his 
hand  upon  his  hip,  as  if  making  sure  that  the  matter 
of  being  "  heeled  "  had  not  been  displaced  by  the 
change  in  his  dress. 

"  1  used  to  pack  one  o'  them  things,"  said  the 
driver;  u  but  'tain't  no  use  to  pack  'em  if  ye  don't 
use  'em." 

"  No."  said  Norman,  with  a  sort  of  far  away  look 
in  his  dark  eyes.  "  No  use,  if  they  are  not  to  be  used 
when  needed." 

"  Well,  I  alwuz  noticed  it,  that  unless  a  feller  is 
right  dead  on  the  shoot,  he  never  needs  a  shootin* 
iron  till  he  gets  wher'  ther's  mighty  little  show  to 
draw." 

Norman  nodded  his  head  in  silence. 

"  When  I  come  on  the  old  overland  line,"  contin- 
ued the  driver,  "  I  had  a  fust- rate  six-shooter,  and 
as  I  was  gittin'  up  on  the  box  the  fust  mornin',  sez 
the  agent  to  me,  sez  he,  '  What're  goiri'  t'do  wi'  that?' 
;  Oh,  mi  thin,'  sez  I,  and  I  looked  over  my  shoulder 
kind  o'  cute  as  I  tuk  up  the  lines.  '  Well.'  sez  he, 
2 


18  SAND. 

4 1  bet  two  to  one  you  don't  use  it.'  4  Oh,  no,'  sez  I, 
4  it  ain't  me  what'll  use  one  o'  them  things — it's  some 
other  feller.'  Well,  dern  me,  if  I  wasn't  overhauled 
by  the  road-agents  in  less'n  two  hours,  an'  I  didn't 
use  it;  and  what's  more,  if  ye  hear  my  gentle  voice, 
they  tuk  it  away  from  me,  went  through  the  passen- 
gers and  the  express  box,  and  I  ain't  never  carried  no 
tools  of  that  kind  sence." 

"  Why  did  you  not  use  it?"  asked  Norman,  very 
gently. 

"  Use  it!  How  in  hell's  a  man  to  use  a  shooter 
when  he's  got  both  hands  full  of  boss  lines?" 

"I  see,"  said  Norman,  and  then  gravely  asked: 
"  Did  no  one  try  to  defend  the  stage?" 

"No!"  answered  the  driver,  in  a  tone  that  was  a 
sort  of  indignant  snarl,  which  may  be  written, 
N-e-a-o-w;  "been  drivin'  fur  ten  year  on  this  coast, 
and  been  gone  through  three  times  by  road-agents, 
an'  I've  heard  lots  o'  talk  among  passengers  about 
fight,  but  I  never  seen  none  of  it.  Talk's  cheap,  but 
it  takes  the  sand  to  fight  stage  robbers." 

No  remarks  from  the  young  man. 

"  D'ye  reckon  you'd  stand  in  if  three  or  four  masked 
men  was  to  come  into  the  road  out  o'  these  yer  bushes, 
with  cocked  double-barreled  shot-guns  drawed  on  us, 
and  holler  to  us  to  *  halt  and  put  up  yer  hands?' ' 

"  I  think  I  should,"  said  Norman. 

"  Well,  ye  wouldn't.  Ye  can  bet  yer  life  ye  wouldn't. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Norman. 

At  this  moment  the  stage  was  winding  slowly  up 


SAND.  19 

the  graded  side-hill  road,  out  of  the  cafion,  toward  the 
open  upland  country.  Up  the  hill-side  the  slim  red 
branches  of  the  madronos  and  the  white  stems  of  the 
buckeyes  shone  out  among  the  live  oak  and  straggling 
pines,  while  below  the  road  and  down  toward  where 
the  gurgling  stream  meandered  among  the  rocks,  the 
pines  arose  tall  arid  serene.  It  was  a  quiet  place, 
save  for  the  chirping  of  small  birds,  the  chatter  of 
blue  jays,  and  the  occasional  whirr  of  the  quail.  The 
situation  and  conversation,  in  some  unconscious  way, 
had  caused  Norman  to  rest  his  hand  upon  his  armed 
hip  as  he  looked  quietly  about  him.  At  the  summit 
of  the  grade  the  woodland  terminated,  and  gave  way 
to  a  long  view  of  open  country,  through  which  the 
road  was  to  be  seen  for  miles  of  distance.  Arriving 
at  the  edge  of  the  woodland,  the  driver  was  about 

o 

gathering  his  lines  more  firmly  in  hands  for  a  speedier 
gait,  when,  as  if  by  magic,  there  appeared  in  the  road 
three  men,  with  guns  and  masked  faces;  "one  of  whom 
shouted: 

"  Halt!"  and  then  added,  looking  through  the  holes 
in  his  rude  mask  at  Norman: 

"  Hold  up  your  hands."  To  which  Norman  re- 
plied by  putting  a  bullet-hole  through  the  mask  im- 
mediately above  the  two  holes  which  had  eyes  behind 
them. 

"Drive  on,"  said  Norman,  quietly,  but  firmly,  as 
he  sent  a  ball  in  dangerous  nearness  to  the  head  of  the 
masked  fellow  in  front  of  the  horses. 

"  Drive  on,  rapidly,"   and  again  he  fired  upon  the 


20 

fellow  in  front,  while  a  ioad  of  buckshot  went  singing 
a  dangerous  falsetto  over  his  head  from  the  fellow  on 
the  right. 

"  By !"  exclaimed  the  driver,  now  thoroughly 

in  for  it,  and  aroused  to  the  merits  of  the  case,  as  he 
sent  the  silk  into  his  leaders  and  whirled  away  to  the 
open  country,  followed  by  another  discharge  of  buck- 
shot arid  a  fusillade  of  revolver  balls. 

For  the  next  two  miles  the  driver  had  business  of 
importance  on  his  hands — his  team  was  "  running 
away,"  or  at  least  fully  believed  they  were,  and  thej^ 
"  meant  it,"  too;  but  a  stage-horse  knows  the  road, 
and  a  good  driver  knows  how  to  let  them  take  it  on 
occasion. 

Norman  quietly  watched  the  receding  road  to  the 
rear,  while  the  driver  kept  an  eye  to  the  fore,  but 
neither  said  anything  to  the  other.  By  and  by,  as 
they  neared  the  station  and  a  small  village,  where  a 
change  of  horses  should  take  place  preparatory  to 
entering  upon  a  more  inhabited  country,  the  driver 
succeeded  in  slowing  his  team  to  a  gentle  trot  up  hill. 

"  Are  you  hurt?"  asked  Norman,  still  keeping  his 
eye  upon  the  rearward  road. 

"  Damn  if  I  know.  Hain't  had  time  to  find  out, 
but  there's  a  place  on  top  of  my  cabesa  that  burns 
like  the  devil.  I  can't  slack  up  on  these  yer  lines  to 
prospect  it." 

"  Let  me  look,"  said  Norman,  taking  off  the  driver's 
hat,  and  softly  manipulating  the  cranium  it  had  cov- 
ered. "  There's  no  blood,  and  I  think  there's  no  new 
lule  in  vour  head." 


SAND. 


This  being  the  first  remark  savoring  of  humor  or 
familiarity  on  Norman's  part  during  the  brief  but 
eventful  acquaintance,  seemed  very'  facetious  to  the 
driver,  particularly  as  the  young  man  had  gone  "away 
up"  in  the  driver's  estimation  —  and  we  are  all  pleased 
at  the  familiarity  of  the  hero. 

Norman  next  examined  the  driver's  hat,  and,  hold- 
ing it  before  the  eyes  of  that  worthy,  pointed  to  op- 
posite holes  across  the  crown  thereof. 

"  I  knowed  it  was  a  cussed  close  call,"  said  the 
driver,  clinging  to  his  lines  the  while,  but  smiling  a 
very  pleased  smile  as  Norman  replaced  the  hat.  "That 
rooster  on  the  right  gave  me  that.  Ain't  you  hurt 
nowheres?" 

"  Not  much,"  said  Norman;  "  there  is  a  wet  place 
on  my  shoulder,  but  it  does  not  feel  very  painful. 
Can  we  not  stop  now  and  look  after  the  people  in- 
side?" 

.  "  No  —  can't  hold  'em,"  meaning  the  horses.  "Hol- 
ler over  the  side  to  'em,"  meaning  the  passengers. 
"  We'll  soon  be  in  town." 

Norman  leaned  down  the  side  of  the  coach,  and 
asked: 

"  Any  one  hurt  inside?" 

"  I  believe  not,"  answered  a  male  voice. 

"No,  sir;  nobody  hurt,"  said  a  pleasant  female 
voice,  "  but  oh!  so  terribly  frightened  —  and  —  are  you 
sure  it  is  all  over?" 

"  All  over,"  said  Norman.          f 

"  Well,  I'm  so  glad,  for  I  was  sure  we  would  all  be 
killed.  Are  you  gentlemen  on  top  hurt?" 


22  SAN  D. 

"•  Yes,  the  driver's  hat  is  mortally  wounded  in  two 
places." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  all,  it  must  have  been  a  miraculous 
deliverance." 

Then  Norman  took  his  seat  again  by  the  driver,  and 
proceeded  to  reload  his  pistol. 

The  stage  drove  up  to  the  porch  of  the  little  coun- 
try inn  with  foaming,  panting  horses.  The  passen- 
gers got  promptly  out,  seemingly  for  no  particular 
object  other  than  to  make  sure  that  peace  was  fully 
assured  and  danger  no  longer  threatening.  Norman 
got  quietly  down  from  his  high  seat,  and  entered  the 
inn  without  speaking  to  any  one.  As  the  driver 
threw  the  lines  right  and  left  to  the  hostlers,  one  of 
those  worthies  remarked,  as  he  cast  an  experienced 
eye  upon  the  team : 

"Been  poppin'  'em  through,  Curly." 

"  Yes,"  said  Curly,  as  he  swung  down  from  his 
seat  to  the  inn  porch;  "  poppin's  the  word,  and  I've 
had  about  enough  o'  this." 

By  this  time  some  whisper  of  the  aifray  had  leaked 
out,  through  a  thirsty  passenger  making  miscellane- 
ous remarks  at  the  bar  while  fortifying  his  courage, 
and  therefore  a  small  squad  impeded  the  driver's  way 
to  the  place  where  the  thirsty  passenger  had  preceded 
him. 

"What's  the  matter  now,  Curly?"  dryly  asked  the 
hostler. 

"  Why,  when  I  hired  to  this  company  to  drive 
stage,  I  didn't  enlist  for  the  war.  Look  at  my  hat" 


SAND.  23 

and  he  took  off  that  article  of  wear  and  handed  it  to 
the  hostler.  " That's  what's  the  matter!  Look  at 
them  holes,"  he  added,  softly  feeling  the  top  of  his 
uncovered  head  as  he  stood  among  the  inquiring 
crowd,  who  looked  first  at  the  hat  and  then  at  the 
head. 

"  Have  yon  been  rowing  with  that  young  feller  that 
was  on  the  box  with  ye?"  asked  the  hostler. 

kiNo.  Where  is  he?"  looking  about  for  him.  "No; 
that  young  feller's  a  particular  friend  of  mine,  and 
he's  got  the  sand — he  hez — he's  a  fighter  from  Bitter 
Creek;"  by  which  mention  of  location  the  driver  only 
desired  to  refer  to  that  place  on  the  old  overland  stage 
road  which  became  in  its  time  noted  as  the  roughest 
place  this  side  of  orthodox  damnation. 

"  You  bored  them  holes  with  a  gimlet,"  said  the 
incredulous  hostler,  passing  the  hat  back. 

Before  the  driver  had  time  to  reply  to  this  insult- 
ing insinuation,  the  crowd  suddenly  rushed  to  the 
rear  of  the  coach,  where  an  elderly  fat  male  passenger, 
with  spectacles  on  nose,  was  pointing  out  certain  small 
holes  in  the  boot  leathers,  as  well  as  in  the  highly 
varnished  wood-work  of  the  body  of  the  coach. 

"  If  you'd  a  been  where  this  hat  was  when  them 
holes  was  made,"  said  the  driver,  placing  the  hat  on 
his  head,  "  there'd  a  been  one  less  leadin'  man  at  the 
p'formance  what  they  call  capittle  punishment.  I'm 
goin'  to  irrigate.  Come  in,  and  take  something, 
hossy.  You  needn't  hurry  up  with  the  other  team. 
We've  got  biz  to  settle  before  we  pull  out  of  here. 


24  SAN  D. 

Come,  and  take  a  drink,  both  of  ye — all  hands — 
everybody!"  and  under  the  pressure  of  the  excite- 
ment the  crowd,  hostlers  and  all,  entered  the  bar-room 
of  the  inn. 

Here,  glass  in  hand,  Curly  related  his  adventure 
to  all  save  the  second  hostler,  whose  duties  required 
him  to  hastily  swallow  his  drink  and  go  back  to  the 
panting  team,  leaving  hostler  No.  1  to  receive  the 
story  for  retailing  at  second-hand  in  the  stable. 

Curly  told  his  story  simply  enough,  without  unu- 
sual exaggeration  as  to  his  own  part  in  it,  but  with 
great  praise  for  the  courage — "  sand,"  he  called  it — 
of  the  ;i  young  feller."  According  to  him,  the  robber 
on  the  left  fell  dead  at  the  first  fire,  and  he  was  satis- 
fied that  the  robber  in  front  was  wounded,  and  he 
thought  from  the  way  the  "  hoss  kep'  shaking  his 
head,  and  goiri'  with  it  turned  up  side- ways,"  that 
one  of  the  leaders  was  "  plugged  "  about  the  butt 
of  the  off  ear,  but  the  robber  on  the  right,  whom  the 
driver  cursed  most  vigorously,  was  not  hurt  at  all. 

"  Is  the  young  feller  hurt  any  ?"  asked  the  bar- 
keeper. 

u  He  thinks  he  is,  in  the  shoulder,"  answered  the 
driver.  "But  where  in  thunder's  he  gone  to?  I 
want  to  see  him.  I  want  to  sell  out  to  him  for  life 
or  good  behavior.  I  can't  buy  him,  I  know;  but  I'll 
sell  if  he'll  buy;  an'  I'm  goin'  to  do  it.  Where  is 
he?"  and  the  driver  started  toward  the  door,  as  i-f  to 
look  him  up. 

"  Gone  down  town  long  'go  with  the  lan'lord,"  said 
the  barkeeper. 


S  A  N  D.  2 

"Well,  Pll  wait  fur  him,  if  it's  a  week.  You 
needn't  bring  out  no  team  till  he  comes  back — not 
fer  me  to  drive — fer  I  don't  move  nary  a  first  step 
till  the  young  feller  gives  his  orders.  Pie's  my  boss. 
He's  the  boss  passenger  that  ever  went  over  this 
line." 

By  and  by  Norman  returned,  coming  up  the  street 
with  the  landlord  on  one  side  of  him  and  the  village 
doctor  on  the  other,  all  conversing  pleasantly,  and  as 
they  stepped  upon  the  inn  porch  the  driver  accosted 
Norman: 

u  Well,  boss,  shall  we  roll  out?" 

"  As  soon  as  you  please.  I'm  ready,"  answered 
Norman. 

"All  right;  away  we  go!"  and  he  started  toward 
the  stables;  then  immediately  turned  on  his  heel, and 
asked:  "  Oh,  I  say!  Boss,  won't  you  have  something 
to  drink?" 

"  No — thank  you — I  have  no  occasion." 

"All  right,"  and  he  turned  again  toward  the  sta- 
bles, muttering  to  himself,  "don't  care  a  hoot  if  he 
never  drinks  with  me — he's  got  the  sand." 

By  this  time,  through  the  piecemeal  detail  of  the 
driver  and  passengers,  it  was  pretty  thoroughly  known 
among  the  crowd  that  the  "  down  stage "  had  been 
stopped  by  road-agents  iw  at  the  summit,  this  side  of 
Buckeye  Canon,"  but  that  the  robbers  had  been  re- 
pulsed by  Norman,  and  distanced  by  the  driver;  that 
Dr.  Minnis  had  extracted  a  ball  from  Norman's  shoul- 
der; that  the  stage  showed  marks  of  the  bullets;  that 


26  SAND. 

the  driver's  hat  had  had  a  ball  through  it,  which  had 
singed  a  furrow  through  his  curly  hair,  and  that  the 
"  nigh  leader  "  had  a  ball  hole  in  the  lower  part  of 
his  off  ear;  and  the  conclusion  was  arrived  at  that 
all  this  scare  and  damage  must  have  been  done  by 
u  Cocho  Pizan  "  and  his  pals,  because  somebody  had 
seen  Cocho  lately  in  the  neighborhood. 

As  the  horses  were  being  brought  and  buckled 
each  in  his  proper  place  in  front  of  the  stage,  there 
was  a  sort  of  public  reception  on  the  inn  porch.  Dr. 
Minnis,  being  an  old-time  acquaintance  of  Norman's 
father,  was  acting  as  voluntary  grand  marshal  of  the 
occasion,  and  pleasantly  introducing  Norman  to  his 
fellow  passengers,  male  and  female,  and  such  of  the 
citizens  as  had,  like  the  stage  passengers,  expressed  a 
desire  to  be  made  acquainted  with,  as  they  termed 
him,  "  the  gallant  young  fellow."  So  Norman  was 
introduced  to  everybody,  and  they  all  congratulated 
him  on  his  u~gallant  conduct."  All  of  which  he 
took  quietly,  pleasantly,  and  with  modest,  almost 
bashful,  demeanor.  When  it  is  said  that  he  was 
introduced  to  everybody,  that  does  not  include  the 
driver,  because  it  was  somehow,  yet  for  no  fair  cause, 
taken  for  granted  that  he  already  knew  him.  Per- 
ceiving the  oversight,  Curly,  who  knew  the  doctor 
slightly,  approached  that  person  and  said,  confiden- 
tially, "  Doc,  I  know  the  young  feller — I'll  never  for- 
git  him — but  he  don't  know  me  only  as  '  the  driver;' 
now  I  want  you  to  introduce  me  on  the  square — up 
an'  up,  ye  know." 


SAND.  m 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  doctor,  stepping  over  to 
where  Norman  stood  near  the  coach,  talking  to  the 
crowd.  '•  Mr.  Maydole,  let  me  make  you  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Talman  Reese." 

Curly  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  after  the  manner  of 
"salute  partners."  and  grasped  Norman's  hand,  re- 
marking as  he  did  so:  "  You  do  me  proud,  Mr.  May- 
dole."  Then  turning  away  to  his  business  without 
another  word,  he  mounted  the  box,  and  shouting  u  all 
aboard,"  gathered  up  his  lines,  released  his  break-lever 
and  put  his  foot  on  it;  then,  as  Norman  sat  down  by 
his  side,  the  landlord  closing  the  coach  door  upon  the 
insiders  with  a  snap,  saying  "all  right,"  at  which 
words  the  horses  began  to  dance  up  on  the  bits,  he 
remarked  over  his  shoulder  as  follows  to  the  crowd: 

"  This  town  isn't  worth  a  whoop  in  hell  if  ye  don't 
give  us  three  cheers  for  the  boss  passenger." 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  will.  Curly  "let  'em 
go" — meaning  the  horses;  Norman  waved  his  hat  to 
the  crowd,  and  the  excited  fresh  team  bowled  the  stage 
away  on  its  route — out  of  sight  and  out  of  sound. 

Upon  the  road  once  more,  and  away  from  all  excite- 
ment save  the  exhilaration  of  the  ride,  Norrnan  fell 
into  silent  reflection  upon  the  events  of  the  morning, 
which  state  of  silence  the  driver  respected,  if  he  was 
not  himself  in  the  same  state,  and  neither  spoke  to 
the  other  for  some  miles.  At  length  Norman  re- 
marked : 

"  Do  you  really  think  I  killed  that  highwayman  I 
first  fired  upon?" 


'$  SAND. 

"I'll  bet  my  pile  on  it.     Didn't  you  see  him  fall." 

"  Yes.  I  saw  him  fall;  but  men  sometimes  get  up 
again.  Do  they  not?" 

"Yes,  they  do,  sometimes;  but  not  when  they  fall 
like  he  did." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  think  he  is  dead." 

"Well,  I  do,  damn  him." 

"  But  you  didn't  shoot  him." 

"  No,  I  didn't,  but  I  wish  I  had  a  shot  him.  I 
hain't  got  no  conscience  about  me  for  him  or  any  of 
his  kind.  An'  if  you'll  take  rny  little  advice,  you'll 
just  consider  yourself  in  big  luck  for  gittin'  the  drop 
on  him  instid  o'  him  gittin'  it  on  you!  " 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Norman,  hastily,  and  the  subject 
dropped  for  a  while. 

"  Was  that  a  bad  job  in  your  shoulder — gittin'  out 
that  ball?" 

"  Painful,  but  not  dangerous — it  was  soon  done." 

"  Glad  of  it." 

Then  there  was  another  long  silence,  broken  in  time 
by  Norman: 

"Mr.  Reese!" 

"  Sir!  to  you." 

"  If  we  go  on  reporting  this  matter  down  the  road, 
will  we  not  raise  an  excitement  and  cause  people  to 
gather  together  and  turn  out  for  a  hunt  after  these 
robbers? " 

"  Well,  that'll  be  a  bully  good  thing." 

"But,  then,  if  they  find  a  dead  body,  we  are  all 
liable  to  be  detained  as  witnesses  before  the  coroner." 


SAND.  29 

"  I'm  agreeable  to  that!  " 

"Yes,  I  know.  Your  position  as  driver  makes  it 
not  inconvenient  or  troublesome  to  you,  but  with  a 
passenger,  bound  upon  his  own  urgent  business,  it  is 
different." 

"It  is  some  different;  but  the  business  ort  to  be 
attended  to — ortn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  certainly.  But  we  all  could  give  no  better 
evidence  than  you  can.  There  is  only  the  fact  that 
the  robbery  was  threatened  by  unknown  parties,  and 
the  shooting  took  place.  You  can  swear  as  to  that; 
and  the  ball-holes  in  the  coach,  and  in  your  hat,  and 
in  the  horse,  will  corroborate  you.  All  the  rest  is 
guess-work.  We  can  not  identify  any  of  the  men.  I 
wish  to  see  the  law  enforced  in  this  and  in  all  cases, 
but  do  not  desire  to  be  detained  from  my  own  affairs 
for  no  attainable  end." 

"  Well,  if  you  say  it,  mum's  the  word  from  now 
on,  as  far  as  I'm  in  it." 

"But  the  other  passengers?" 

"  Oh,  they'll  cotton  to  it,  soon's  they  find  it's  into 
their  hands  to  lay  low." 

"  Will  you  mention  it  to  them  at  the  earliest  op- 
portunity?" 

"  I  will  that.  But  if  the  fellow  you  plugged  is 
Cocho  Pizan,  and  I  reckon  he  is,  you  needn't  hev  no 
worry  about  no  kerrener  a  settin'  on  his  body ;  there's 
greasers  enough  in  the  foot-hills — say  in'  nuthin  of 
other  cut-throats — to  keep  his  carkus  away  from  any 
inquess." 


SAND. 


"Thank  you,"  rejoined  Norman;  and  thereafter 
the  ride  proceeded  to  its  end  with  the  usual  ordinary 
line  of  incident,  the  relation  of  which  is  not  vital  to 
this  narrative. 


CHAPTER   II. 

The  home  of  Colonel  Holten  was  his  own.  He  was 
its  author.  There  had  been  a  time  in  the  manhood  of 
his  life  when  the  price  of  any  article  in  this  home 
would  have  been  a  vital  financial  matter  to  him;  but 
now,  thanks  to  his  own  efforts,  care,  courage,  and 
capabilities,  he  was  able  easily  to  have  about  him  what- 
ever money  could  buy.  Yet  his  home  was  in  no  way 
a  heterogeneous  array  of  imitative  purchases  or  gilded 
trashiness.  It  was  costly,  and  it  conformed  in  all  its 
details  to  his  ideas  of  a  home,  as  near  as  well  rewarded 
skill  and  personal  supervision  could  make  it.  Yet, 
withal,  he  was  no  slave  in  his  merchantable  surround- 
ings, nor  would  he  advise  or  permit  those  who  shared 
his  affections  and  fortunes  so  to  be.  The  downs  of 
life  had  taught  him  that  its  ups  are  only  valuable  as 
they  promote  contentment  with  the  reasonable  attain- 
ment of  one's  object.  The  acquisition  of  the  power 
of  wealth  was  his  game.  He  loved  to  play  that  game. 
But  he  loved  even  better  the  seasons  of  relaxation, 
under  the  roof- tree  he  had  reared  from  a  foundation 
of  empty  hands. 

His  wife  was  a  soothing,  sensible,  domestic  person, 
supposed  by  himself  and  others,  but  not  by.  her,  to  be 
above  him  in  blood  and  lineage — whatever  that  may 
mean  in  the  United  States  of  North  America.  Some 
recent  ancestors  of  hers  had  been  members  of  the 

31 


32  SAND. 

Legislature  of  her  native  State,  or  of  some  other  State; 
and  one  ancestor  in  particular  had  been  a  judge  in  his 
time,  and  also  a  member  of  Congress.  But  Holten's 
ancestors  had  been  simply  furrowers  of  the  soil,  or 
traders,  for  numberless  generations.  And  though 
now,  in  the  matter  of  weight  in  the  State  and  on  the 
market,  he  was  able  to  buy  and  sell,  had  such  been 
for  sale,  the  influence  of  all  his  wife's  relations  from 
the  remotest  point  in  the  family  history,  still  he  ever, 
and  at  all  times,  held  and  gave  forth  the  idea  that  his 
wife  and  her  family  were,  as  compared  with  himself 
and  his  family — or  with  anybody  else's  family,  in 
fact — superior  persons.  He  not  only  held  this  idea, 
but  he  religiously  believed  it,  from  the  fact  that  when 
he  first  felt  his  heart  warm  toward  the  good  girl  of 
his  choice,  she  seemed  so  far  and  away  above  his  social 
position  and  culture,  that  the  impression  then  made 
remained,  in  true  love  evergreen,  with  him  through 
life.  He,  by  his  actions,  more  than  by  his  words, 
perhaps,  sought  to  convey  this  idea  to  his  children; 
and  he  generally  succeeded  in  doing  so,  but  not  in 
every  case.  He  had  no  son.  This  was  one  of  his  re- 
grets. But  he  had  three  fair  daughters,  the  eldest  of 
whom  was  his  son  in  all  ways,  except  that  she  was  in  no 
way  masculine.  She  was  himself  again  as  near  as  she 
could  be,  aside  from  what  she  regarded  as  her  misfor- 
tune of  sex.  She  was  a  strong  woman — not  strong 
as  a  man  is  strong — but  strong  as  a  brave  man  would 
have  her  to  be.  She  knew  when  he  was  hurt.  The  least 
abrasion  on  the  firm-fronted  armor  which  he  pre- 


SAND.  33 

sen  ted  to  the  str.iving  world  was  not  hidden  to  her 
eyes.  She  gloried  in  his  strength,  rejoiced  in  hi& 
successes,  and  was  vexed  at  any  impediments  in  his 
way.  She  realized  as  by  intuition  that  the  fortunes- 
of  a  man  are  himself,  that  opportunity  in  itself  is- 
dead  matter,  until  vitalized  by  a  vigorous  manhood; 
and  yet  she  was  not  a  forward  nor  an  obtrusive  woman. 
Toward  this  child  the  father  leaned  in  his  wearied-out 
or  disgusted  hours;  and  she  promptly  met  him  with 
as  much  motherly  kinkness  as  may  be  in  a  young 
woman  of  years  not  yet  counting  one  score.  In  form 
and  feature  she  resembled  her  father  and  her  father's 
people.  Tall  she  was,  but  not  over  tall,  full  and  firm 
of  chest,  strong  of  limb  and  lithe  of  action,  with  an 
imposing,  grand,  arid  graceful  way  of  her  own.  She 
was  not  pretty  of  face,  yet  it  was  easier  to  look  in  her 
face  a  second  time  than  to  avoid  doing  so.  It  was  a 
sweet,  powerful  face,  and  the  head  which  gave  to  that 
face  an  appearance  of  prominence  of  mouth  and  chin 
was  a  grand  head.  It  was  of  the  domestic-heroic 
type,  poised  a  little  backward  by  the  weight  of  a  vital 
brain,  and  yet  full  enough  forward  for  all  practical 
purposes.  Her  hair  was  light  brown,  her  eyes  gray, 
her  skin  fair,  her  teeth  good,  her  cheeks  and  chin 
dimpled,  and  her  neck  and  throat  white,  smooth,  and 
with  but  the  faintest  suggestion  of  an  angle.  Still 
she  was  not  pretty — did  not  think  she  was.  But  she 
was,  and  she  early  knew  it,  pleasing  to  her  own  sex, 
and  interesting  to  the  other.  Her  sisters,  being 
younger  and  prettier,  were  as  yet  ordinary  persons, 
3 


34  SAN  D. 

not  requiring  special  notice  at  this  time.  But  she 
had  a  visiting  friend,  a  few  years  older  than  herself, 
from  the  country  of  ancient  culture  which  lies  to  the 
eastward.  This  friend  was  another  sort  of  girl — 
slender,  high  of  forehead,  and  light  behind  the  ears. 
Her  head  poised  the  reverse  way  to  that  of  our  hero- 
ine, for  whereas  the  head  of  our  girl  tilted  backward, 
giving  to  the  face  a  slightly  upward  poise,  the  face  of 
the  other  poised  forward,  drawing  the  chin  back,  and 
throwing  the  brow  to  the  front ;  hence,  our  girl  looked 
at  you  with  a  full,  open  expression,  while  the  other 
glanced  from  under  her  higher  forehead.  Girls  who 
have  heads  and  faces  gotten  up  in  these  styles  have 
usually  bodies  and  rninds  to  correspond.  Thinking 
observers  know  that;  so  there  is  no  need  just  here  to 
further  describe  Judith  Holten  and  her  young  Eastern 
friend,  Alice  Winans. 

Into  this  family  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  was  ushered 
by  its  head.  Mrs.  Holten,  taking  his  reserve  of  man- 
ner for  bashful  timidity,  strove,  with  cheery  mother- 
liness,  to  make  his  introduction  easy.  The  younger 
girls  stood  with  their  arms  about  each  other,  and  looked 
innocently  at  the  new  young  man.  Miss  Alice  Win- 
ans  inspected  him  according  to  Robert  Burns'  for- 
mula: 

"  Keek  thro'  ev'ry  ither  man 

Wi'  sharpen'd  slee  inspection." 

Judith  shook  hands  with  him  earnestly  and  fairly, 
looking  at  him  with  level  eyes  from  an  open,  honest 
expression,  bade  him  a  brief,  hearty  welcome  (after 


SAND  35 

her  father's  style),  then  paid  no  further  particular 
attention  to  him.  But  Miss  Alice  kept  a  mental  reg- 
istry of  his  looks,  and  ere  the  evening  was  half  ended 
had  noted  that  Norman's  eyes  were,  though  very  quiet 
and  self-possessed,  prone  to  wander  after  the  form  and 
movements  of  Judith  Holten. 

Norman  made  no  boyish  effort  to  add  weight  to  his 
own  impressiveness — had  no  thought  of  so  doing. 
His  mind  was  upon  other  matters,  relating  to  the 
changing  condition  of  his  affairs;  and,  -  perhaps,  in 
any  case  he  would  have  acted  as  he  did  then — simply 
as  a  quiet  young  gentleman. 

As  the  evening  visit  progressed  into  the  late  hours, 
Mrs.  Holten  remarked  easily  to  Norman,  as  she  took 
a  seat  near,  in  her  changes  from  place  to  place  about 
the  room: 

"  Mr.  Maydole,  you  are  to  remain  with  us  enfamille 
for  the  present,  and  you  must  try  to  feel  at  home." 

"  Thank  you,  madam ;  but  is  it  not  more  fit  that  I 
should  remain  at  my  hotel?" 

"No,  indeed!  Mr.  Holten  would  not  think  of  it; 
and  we  have  all  voted  that  you  remain  with  us." 

"  It  is  with  entire  pleasure  that  I  accept  your  kind- 
ness. Indeed,  as  to  its  effect  upon  myself,  I  have  not, 
have  not  had,  any  hesitation  in  its  acceptance;  but  I 
am  here  to  serve,  not  to  be  served." 

Mrs.  Holten  laughed  a  little  laugh,  remarking: 

u  The  service  is  to  be  mutual,  Mr.  Maydole."  Then 
excused  herself  to  hasten  away  to  some  other  matter. 

"Mr.  Maydole,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  coming  into 
the  room  from  which  he  had  been  absent  for  some 


36  'SAND. 

time,  "my  wife  lias  told  you  that  you  are  to  abide 
with  us;  and  having  had  a  long  and  weary  ride,  you 
must  be  tired.  If  it  is  your  wish  to  retire  to  rest,  I 
will  show  you  to  your  apartments." 

Norman  thanked  him,  bade  the  family  good-night, 
and  followed  his  host  from  the  room ;  whereupon  the 
family  circle  dispersed  to  its  several  dormitories. 

In  the  rooms  of  Miss  Judith  there  was  an  imme- 
diate discussion  of  the  new  young  man. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  father's  protege?" 
asked  Miss  Judith  of  Miss  Alice. 

"What  think  you  of  him?" 

"  I  have  not  thought  much  about  him.  He  has 
nice  feet,  a  soft  voice,  and  his  clothes  fit  him.  Father 
has  so  many  i  old  pards,'  as  they  call  themselves, 
coming  and  going,  that  my  curiosity  is  not  very  keen." 

"This  one  is  no  old  pard,"  said  Miss  Alice,  laugh- 
ing. 

"Well,  it's  all  the  same — his  father  is." 

"I  think  this  is  a  gentleman." 

"Well,  that's  a  blessing;  because  some  of  father's 
old  friends  are  good  men,  but  they  are  very  loud,  riot 
to  say  sometimes  coarse." 

"This  one  is  not  coarse.  You  need  have  no  idea 
that  he  is.  He  is  a  little  new — not  raw;  but  he  will 

v  :-. 

assert  himself  without  noise  or  over-exertion." 

"You  are  a  student  of  character,  Alice.  Oh,  I  wish 
you  could  see  some  of  the  characters  father  brings 
home.  'The  old-time  boys,'  they  call  themselves. 
From  Nevada,  Montana,  Colorado,  Arizona,  Asia, 


SAND.  37 

Africa,  America,  and  the  islands  of  the  sea.  Father 
enjoys  them  when  he  is  not  over- worked.  Soine  of 
them  are  very  poor — alas,  poor  boys! — but  many  of 
them  are  'well  fixed,'  as  they  call  it,  arid  are  liberal  to 
profusion;  and  they  almost  invariably  make  me  the 
recipient  of  their  bounty,  because,  they  say,  I'm  'so 
much  like  the  old  man.'  I  have  a  perfect  museum  of 
the  most  astonishing  Iric-a-lrac  presented  to  me  by 
elderly  men,  who  wanted  to  drive  me  in  the  highest 
style  to  the  theoyter,  or  anywhere,  or  everywhere.  They 
all  wanted  to  do  something  handsome — and  the  right 
thing — by  their  'old  pard's  little  gal.'  They  are  not 
so  numerous  now  as  they  were  when  I  was  a  child. 
Po.or  fellows! — dead,  perhaps,"  said  Judith,  with  a 
sigh. 

"This  man  will  not  come  to  you  with  presents." 

"Why  not,  pray?" 

"Because  you  will  go  after  him." 

"Wh-a-w-t?" 

"That  man  is  just  as  sure  to  interest  Judith  Holten 
as  I  am  alive  to  say  so." 

"Good — ness!  He?  A  little,  long-armed,  amiable 
soul  like  him?" 

"Amiable?  Why,  Judith,  the  man  is  a  young 
mountain  lion.  Look  at  his  quiet,  leopard-like  eyes, 
his  long,  cruel  hands.  Oh,  those  hands!  They  give 
me  a  fit  of  semi-suffocation  to  look  at  them." 

"Dear  me,  I  did  not  see  anything  remarkable  about 
his  hands — except  that  they  seemed  large  and  very 
well  formed." 


38  SAND. 

"Cruel,  cruel  !  Hands  that  may  fall  gently  as  a 
roseleaf  at  one  moment,  but  with  the  crushing  grip 
of  a  giant  in  the  next." 

"Why,  why,  Alice!  I  shall  keep  my  eyes  open  if 
I  am  to  see  the  wonders  which  are  revealed  to  you." 

"It  is  no  effort  for  him  to  breathe.  He  does  not 
know  that  he  is  breathing.  The  tigers,  the  cats,  and 
all  the  feline  race,  breathe  as  he  does,  in  utter  still- 
ness, and  they  pounce  and  tear." 

"If  he  is  so  terrible  as  all  that,  I  must  warn  my 
father  to  send  him  away  at  once,"  said  Judith,  laugh- 
ing. 

"He's  only  a  half-grown  kitten  yet — nice,  smooth 
little  kitten;  but  he  is  the  making  of  a  terrible  tom- 
cat. I  hate  cats;  still  I  think  he  is  a  gentleman." 

"He  may  be  one  of  those  men  father  talks  of,  who 
have  reserved  force — whatever  that  means." 

"That's  just  what  he  is." 

"If  that  proves  to  be  the  case,  I  must  IOOK  after 
him,  for  that  sort  of  man  is  father's  special  admira- 
tion." 

"No  doubt  you  will  look  after  him.  Kismet — I 
have  said  it." 

"Do  you  call  him  handsome?" 

"I  do." 

"That's  something  to  his  credit." 

"His  face  is  boyish  yet,  because  he  is  well  preserved, 
morally  and  physically,  but  when  age  and  trial  shall 
have  developed  the  latent  lion  in  his  face,  he  will  have 
an  admirably  impressive  presence." 


SAND.  39 

"Alice  Winans,  what  has  come  over  you?  "What 
kind  of  a  merry  humor  have  you  fallen  into?  Have 
you  set  your  wits  to  woo  my  heart  for  the  new  man? 
'Handsome,'  'well  preserved,  morally  and  physically,' 
'an  undeveloped  lion  among  men,'  quoth  she.  Why, 
that  is  the  blessed  fellow  of  my  dreams." 

"Well  do  I  know  it,  Judith,  dear.  And  thou  hast 
him,  and  he'll  have  you.  Good-night,"  and  Miss 
Alice  departed  for  her  own  couch. 

Judith  retired,  and  fell  asleep  more  interested  in 
the  humor  of  her  friend  than  in  the  character  or  con- 
duct of  the  new  man — but  still  not  without  consider- 
ing him,  as  far  as  her  observation  warranted. 

When  Colonel  Holten  had  ehown  Norman  to  his 
room,  in  the  good,  old-fashioned  way,  and  was  about 
to  bid  him  good-night,  he  said: 

"If  you  are  an  early  riser,  Mr.  Maydole,  and  find 
no  one  but  the  servants  stirring  when  you  get  up,  come 
to  my  den.  It  is  in  the  southeast  corner  of  the  build- 
ing, right-hand  side  along  this  hall.  I  am  usually  up 
betimes  in  the  morning.  I  shall  be  busily  occupied, 
but  I  will  find  you  something  to  do." 

When  Colonel  Holten  left  him  for  the  night,  Nor- 
man undressed,  paid  some  attention  to  his  wounded 
shoulder,  and  then  lay  down  to  sleep.  But  there  were 
too  many  new  arrangements  among  his  ideas  to  allow 
of  his  sleeping  for  several  hours.  He  went  over  in 
his  mind  his  leaving  home,  and  all  that  happened  to 
him,  and  by  him,  on  his  way  down  to  the  city,  and 
then  tried  to  forecast  his  position  in  Colonel  Holten's 


40  SAND. 

family;  but  that  being  a  too  complex  prospect  he  gave 
it  up,  turning  at  length  drowsily  upon  his  pillow,  to 
fall  into  a  half-dream,  in  which  he  saw  Judith  Hoi- 
ten's  grand  muscular  grace  moving  about  the  house, 
and  heard  her  strong,  contagious  laugh  ringing  him 
at  last  into  a  sound,  dreamless  sleep. 

This  laugh  of  Judith's,  by  the  way,  was  an  inter- 
esting performance,  which  broke  first  on  her  face  in  a 
smile  of  deepened  dimples  and  gleaming  teeth,  and 
then  shook  her  into  a  contagious  grace  of  contortion, 
which  she  could  not  resist,  nor  anybody  else.  As  one 
of  Colonel  Holten's  "old-time  pards,"  when  he  re- 
turned to  his  bachelor  home  in  the  mines,  describing 
Judith  Holten,  said,  "A  feller  could  aiford  to  make 
a  d — d  fool  of  himself,  any  time,  if  she'd  laugh  at 
him." 

In  the  morning  Norman  was  up  and  about  at  an 
early  hour,  but  he  had  heard  heavy,  slipper-footed 
steps  along  the  hall  before  he  was  out  of  bed ;  and  as 
the  sound  of  these  steps  went  in  the  direction  of  "the 
den,"  he  followed  the  sound,  and,  knocking  at  a  door 
in  the  side  of  the  hall,  was  bidden  to  "Come  in,"  and 
then  passing  into  a  room  which  had  the  appearance 
of  the  office  of  a  hard-worked  counselor  at  law,  with 
its  desks,  its  library,  its  pigeon-holes,  and  its  papers, 
he  was  heartily  accosted  with: 

"Ah,  Mr.  Maydole!  G-ood-morning,  sir.  Pleased 
to  see  you.  Hope  you  rested  well.  I'm  very  busy." 
Then  without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  added,  point- 
ing to  a  desk  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  "Amuse 


SAND.  41 

yourself  looking  through  those  accounts — said  to  be 
tangled — see  what  you  can  find  out."  Then  taking 
out  his  watch  he  smoothed  his  thumb  across  its  crys- 
tal, and  further  added,  "We  will  work  till  half-past 
eight  o'clock,  then  breakfast,  then  I  go  down  town, 
then  you  work  at  those  account  books  as  long  as  you 
feel  like  it,  and  afterward  follow  your  own  fancy.  If 
you  think  you  find  a  point  that  is  crooked,  report  it 
to  me."  Without  another  word  he  sat  down  to  his 
desk,  and  immediately  relapsed  into  the  spiritual 
trance  of  business  absorption. 

Norman  took  his  seat  without  remark,  and  straight- 
way went  to  work.  The  books  proved  to  be  those  of 
a  mining  company,  containing  what  purported  to  be 
the  business  records  of  the  working  of  the  mine 
through  several  years.  For  all  he  could  make  out  at 
a  brief  examination,  the  books  seemed  mechanically 
well  arranged,  and  kept  with  artistic  neatness  as  to 
penmanship,  etc.;  but  Norman,  as  occasional  assistant 
to  his  father  in  the  county  clerk's  office,  had  seen  fancy 
papers  make  a  very  poor  showing  of  facts,  and  was, 
therefore,  in  no  wise  dazzled  by  the  matter  of  style. 
He  had  also  in  his  time,  even  from  childhood,  sat  by 
his  father's  side  in  court,  watching  the  proceedings  in 
lengthy  litigation  of  commercial  cases,  and  had  marked 
the  shrewd  attorney  examining  books  of  account  and 
book-keepers;  and  these  early  impressions,  coupled 
with  his  late  course  of  commercial  education,  had 
brought  him  forward  not  so  ill  prepared  for  the  task 
in  hand.  As  no  particular  point  had  been  given  him 


42  SAND. 

to  find  out,  he  wisely  concluded  to  prepare  himself 
with  "a  case  in  court,"  and  be  ready  for  examination 
at  all  points,  let  the  same  come  in  what  shape  soever. 
He  saw  large,  numerous,  and  oft  charges,  for  wages, 
for  timbers,  lumber,  powder,  steel,  tools,  etc.,  and  he 
concluded  to  extract  and  make  schedules  of  these 
expenditures,  in  an  effort  to  compare  the  proportion 
which  each  bore  to  the  other,  so  as,  if  possible,  to  trace 
an  excess  of  expenditure,  or  waste,  in  any  one  direc- 
tion, as  proportioned  with  any  other.  For  his  first 
item  he  selected  the  matter  of  mining  timbers;  and, 
by  breakfast  time,  he  thought  he  found  that  in  one 
year  the  amount  of  timbers  charged  as  used  by  and 
placed  in  the  main  shaft  of  the  mine,  would  have  so 
filled  the  shaft  witli  timber  that  the  twelve  by  six-foot 
opening  would  be  reduced  to  a  six  by  three.  He  was 
working  to  verify  this  matter,  when  Colonel  Holten 
suddenly  awoke  from  his  trance,  and  said,  looking 
again  at  his  watch: 

"Ah,  breakfast!  Well,  Mr.  Maydole,  how  are  the 
books? — too  soon  to  ask  that  question,  eh?" 

"  Rather,  sir.  But  still,"  said  Norman,  laying 
down  his  pencil,  "there  seems  to  be  a  little  queerness 
in  the  charges  for  timbers." 

"How's  that?" 

"  It  seems  to  me,  at  a  cursory  glance,  that  if  the 
amount  of  timber  charged  as  used  was  used  in  the 
place  to  which  it  is  allotted,  there  would  be  little  room 
for  anything  else  in  that  place  but  timber." 

"  Very  good,  very  good.  Mr.  Maydole!     Let  us  go 


SAND.  43 

to  breakfast."  Then  he  suddenly  paused  at  the  door, 
out  of  which  he  was  about  to  lead,  and,  going  back 
to  his  desk,  opened  a  drawer,  saying,  "  Here.  It  may 
happen  that  you  shall  wish  to  go  in  to  the  town  without 
passing  along  the  halls  of  the  house.  This  key  will 
let  you  out  of  that  door,"  pointing  to  it,  "into  the 
side  street.  Be  careful  to  lock  it  after  you.  Now  we 
will  go  straight  to  breakfast." 

At  the  breakfast  table  Norman  was  pleasantly 
greeted  by  the  assembled  family.  Mrs.  Holten,  still 
under  the  idea  that  his  quiet  ways  meant  bashfulness, 
sought  to  draw  him  into  conversation,  and  asked: 

"  Does  it  snow  where  you  have  lived — I  mean,  does 
it  fall  heavily?" 

Now,  snow-storms  were  among  Norman's  admira- 
tions of  the  fine  things  in  nature. 

"  No,  madam,  riot  where  my  father  resides — that 
is,  not  heavily." 

"  Isn't  that  a  pity!  I  think  the  first  heavy  snow- 
fall of  the  season  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  things 
in  the  world." 

i%  O-o-o-o,"  shivered  Miss  Alice  Winans,  as  she 
drew  up  her  shoulders  into  the  imaginary  wrappings 
of  a  heavy  shawl. 

"  La!  when  I  was  a  girl,"  continued  the  madam, 
"  we  girls  then  used  to  wear  our  hair  parted  in  the 
middle,  and  combed  down  smoothly  over  our  ears, 
and  done  up  with  a  comb  in  the  back — " 

"A  very  sensible,  becoming,  and  womanly  way  to 
wear  it."  dryly  exclaimed  Colonel  Holten. 


44  SAND. 

"  Old-fashioned,  though,"  interrupted  Judith. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  good  sense  in  that  which 
is  old-fashioned,  my  daughter." 

"  And  much  that  is  old-fashioned  which  is  as  full 
of  folly  as  a  powdered  wig,"  rejoined  Judith. 

Holten  smiled  in  his  beard,  and  his  wife  continued: 

"  And  we  used  to  put  on  our  shawls  and  go  out 
bare-headed  to  romp  through  the  falling  snow.  It 
was  just  delightful  to  see  the  steady  falling,  falling, 
falling  of  the  soft,  feathery  flakes,  and  to  hear  our 
voices  echo  such  a  little  way  off  in  the  muffled  still- 
ness. I  like  the  snow." 

"  Oh,  rne!  I  hate  it,"  said  Miss  Alice,  with  a 
shrug. 

"  The  fall  is  heavier  higher  up  the  mountain  than 
where  you  live?"  Col.  Holten  half  asserted,  half  asked, 
nodding  at  Norman. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  spent  one  winter  hunting  on  Nor- 
wegian snow-shoes  on  the  high  Sierra." 

"  And  what  did  you  hunt?"  asked  Mrs.  Holten. 

"  Bears,  wild-cats,  mountain  lions,  deer,  and  small 
game." 

"Why!  I  thought  the  bears  crawled  into  their 
caves  or  holes  in  the  winter  season.  That's  what  the 
Natural  History  says,"  remarked  one  of  the  younger 
Misses  Holten. 

"  Then  we  crawl  after  them,"  said  Norman. 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  Maydole,"  continued  the  young 
miss,  "  would  you  crawl  into  a  dark  cave  after  a  wild 
bear?" 


SAND.  45 

"  Yes;  if  I  were  hunting  him." 

The  young  miss,  looking  at  him  with  rounded  eyes, 
simply  said,  "  Mr.  Maydole!" 

"  Did  you  ever  try  it?"  asked  Col.  Hoi  ten,  with  a 
somewhat  incredulous  lifting  of  his  brows. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Miss  Alice  looked  from  under  her  forehead  at  Miss 
Judith,  as  much  as  to  say:  ''  What  did  I  tell  you?" 

"  Did  you  get  him  ?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  We  did." 

"To  whom  do  you  refer  as  we?" 

"  Judge  Clayton,  Canutesen  the  Norwegian,  and 
myself." 

"  Ah,  that  is  like  Clayton.  He  was  the  prehistoric 
man  of  the  cave  epoch,  heavily  veneered  with  modern 
learning  and  the  true  chivalry  of  civilization.  I 
knew  him  well.  He  was  the  only  man  I  ever  saw 
who  loved  danger — truly  loved  it." 

u  He  was  my  best  friend,"  said  Norman ;  "  and 
from  him  I  learned  the  use  of  arms,  offensive  and 
defensive." 

"Did  he  convey  to  you  his  unerring  aim  with  a 
pistol?" 

"  He  has  often  said  that  he  did." 

"  And  his  love  of  fisticuffs,  with  his  address  in  the 
manly  art?" 

"  To  some  degree." 

Colonel  Holten  looked  at  Norman's  hands,  and 
seemed  to  catch  an  idea  for  reflection,  for  he  said 
no  more  during  the  breakfast. 


46  SAND. 

"How  deep  is  the  snow  upon  the  mountains,  usu- 
ally, in  winter?"  asked  Miss  Judith. 

"  From  nothing  to  six,  eight,  ten,  or  twenty  feet, 
until  it  is  drifted  by  the  winds,  and  then  it  is  any 
depth,  almost,  you  would  ask." 

Here  Norman  was  led  into  a  brief  description  of  a 
snow-shoeing,  up  and  down  over  the  deep  snow  on 
the  silent,  white-clad  mountains,  until  Miss  Winaiis, 
in  the  month  of  June,  said  she  was  freezing,  and 
wanted  to  know  if  the  company  did  not  hear  the 
sleigh-bells  jingling  through  the  streets  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  as,  waking 
from  his  mood  of  reflection  and  rising  from  the  table, 
lie  buttoned  up  his  coat,  pulled  the  collar  up  about 
his  neck,  looked  for  his  hat,  and  said  to  his  wife: 

"  My  dear,  put  on  your  wraps  and  we  will  go  for  a 
merry  ride  under  the  robes  of  '  an  Id  lang  syne.' ' 

Mrs.  Holten  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  lit  by  the 
light  of  other  days,  in  which  there  was  to  him  a  quiet 
significance  that  sent  him  out  of  the  house  smiling  as 
if  he  remembered  something  pleasant. 

The  family  dispersed,  and  Norman  went  back  again 
to  the  contemplation  of  his  new  work.  He  had  not 
sat  long  when  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  present  was 
as  good  a  time  as  any  to  follow  the  directions  on  a 
card,  given  him  by  Dr.  Minnis,  to  the  address  thereon; 
not  that  his  shoulder  was  paining  him  to  any  extent, 
but  because  he  thought  it  his  prudent  duty  to  have 
his  wound  looked  after;  consequently,  he  let  himself 


SAND.  4:7 

out  of  the  side  door,  and  proceeded  to  find  the  medi- 
cal man. 

When  he  sent  in  the  card  given  him  by  Dr.  Minnis, 
he  had  but  a  few  moments  to  wait  ere  that  distin- 
guished disciple  of  Galen  came,  himself,  to  meet  him 
and  greet  him,  saying: 

"  I  am  pleased  to  meet  you.  Any  patient  of  Dr. 
Minnis'  is  a  personal  friend  to  me  when  bringing  the 
proper  credentials.  In  what  way  can  I  serve  you?" 

"  My  shoulder — "  Norman  was  beginning  to  say. 

"  Just  so.     Step  into  my  private  office." 

Norman  entered,  laid  bare  his  shoulders,  and  the 
doctor,  as  he  proceeded  in  removing  the  slight  dress- 
ing of  his  wound,  uttered,  half  under  his  breath,  yet 
still  audible  to  his  patient,  a  rapid  series  of  exclama- 
tions. 

"  Well,  well,  well!" 

"  Do  you  find  it  in  a  bad  condition?  I  suppose  I 
should  have  had  it  attended  to  more  promptly." 

"  No,  no.  The  wound  is  doing  nicely,  and  amounts 
to  nothing  to  speak  of." 

"  I  thought  by  your  exclamation  it  had  passed  into 
some  new  condition." 

"  No,  no!"  said  the  doctor,  laughing.  "  I  was  sur- 
prised at  your  heavy  development  of  chest  and  mus- 
cle, so  greatly  in  contrast  with  your  facial  indications. 
You  are  a  very  big  little  man,  sir — not  so  little,  either 
— I  should  more  properly  say  you  are  a  bigger  man 
than  you  look.  Like  the  Dutchman's  horse,  you  are 
big  when  you  are  lying  down." 

Norman  smiled. 


48  SAND. 

"How  did  you  get  this  wound?  It  is  almost  a 
wound  in  the  back,"  continued  the  doctor,  as  he 
worked  busily  at  his  art  and  mystery. 

"  I  was  on  the  top  of  a  stage,  and  we  were  fired 
upon  by  footmen  in  the  road." 

"  The  direction  of  the  ball-hole  indicates  as  much. 
The  wound  also  shows  it  to  have  been  a  nearly  spent 
ball." 

"  Perhaps  it  was.  I  cannot  tell  much  about  how  I 
got  it;  we  were  very  busy  at  the  time — the  driver 
and  I — and  the  balls  were  numerous  and  lively." 

"Stage  robbers?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"When?" 

"On  Monday." 

"Where?"  " 

"  Summit  of  Buckeye  Canon  grade." 

"  I  know  the  place — have  hunted  quail  there  with 
Minnis.  Anybody  killed?" 

"  I  do  not  know — not  any  of  the  passengers." 

"  Why,  you  don't  say  you  fought  them  ?" 

"  We  did." 

By  this  time  the  doctor  was  through  with  all  that 
was  to  be  done,  and  assisted  Norman  to  dress. 

"  Doctor,  what  is  your  charge?" 

"  Nothing,  sir.  A  young  man  who  fights  stage- 
robbers,  and  is  a  friend  of  Dr.  Minnis,  is  welcome  to 
any  service  I  can  do  him." 

1«L  "  Thank  }TOU,  doctor,"  said  Norman,  moving  quietly 
toward  the  door.     "  Good-day,  sir." 


SAND.  49 

44 1  will  be  happy  to  see  you  at  any  time.  Let  me 
see,"  referring  to  the  card,  "why,  bless  me!  Maydolel 
I  know  your  father.  Come  and  see  me.  Good-day." 

Norman  returned  to  his  work  on  the  books.     He 
worked   deliberately,   diligently,   like    Champollion 
deciphering,  by  scientific  classification,  the   hidden 
meaning  of  a  "  dead  "  thing. 

Day  after  day,  his  life  wore  on  in  agreeable-  monot- 
ony. Day  after  day,  Colonel  Holten,  with  his  quick, 
all-seeing  glances,  watched  him,  and  silently  warmed 
toward  him.  Day  after  day,  he  met  the  family  of  his 
employer  and  friend,  and  sought  ways  to  serve  them. 

Mrs.  Holten  called  him  a  good  boy — not  to  his 
face,  however.  Miss  Judith  Holten  and  Miss  Alice 
Winans  drew  him  into  talks  about  the  mountains, 
and  listened  attentively  when  he  threw  the  blood  of 
life  into  hunting  stories  and  mountain  adventures; 
while  the  two  younger  girls  said  that  his  talk  was 
''just  splendid." 

Miss  Alice  Winans  was  rather  puzzled  with  him. 
Jn  her  philosophical  intellect  he  was  always  some- 
thing between  a  latent  monster  and  a  good  young 
gentleman,  while  in  her  heart  he  began  to  be  a  photo- 
graphic "  negative,"  which  only  grew  more  distinct 
against  the  dark  shadow  of  him  which  lurked  in  her 
intellect.  Over  the  shadow  she  talked,  analyzed  and 
philosophized;  over  the  "negative"  she  sighed  and 
kept  silent.  Queer  it  is,  at  times,  that  our  heads  go 
one  way  and  our  hearts  the  other.  There  is  no 
science  in  love' — and  mighty  little  judgment.  Blessed 
4 


50  SAN  D. 

m 

be  the  man  who  first  invented  true  love — he  didn't 
put  much  brains  into  it.  If  he  had,  he  would  have 
spoiled  it,  and  poor,  ordinary  male  devils  could  never 
marry  the  grandly  sensible  women  that  they  some- 
times do  marry.  If  the  wise  were  to  wed  only  the 
wise,  there  would  be  a  monopoly  of  wisdom.  Nature 
abhors  a  monopoly  no  less  than  she  does  a  vacuum. 
The  inventor  of  true  love  seems  to  have  been  famil- 
iar with  these  great  facts;  hence,  we  have  the  dirty 
water  poured  from  the  window  upon  the  wise  pate  of 
Socrates  by  his  wedded  wife,  who  had  no  taste  for  a 
full  head  with  a  lean  larder. 

Norman  was  discussed  by  the  two  young  ladies 
from  time  to  time. 

"  Father  is  taking  a  strong  fancy  for  Mr.  Maydole," 
said  Judith  in  one  of  the  discussions  of  the  young 
man. 

"  I  do  not  see  why  he  should  not." 

"  Nor  I,  either.  But  I  am  suspicious  of  Father's 
weakness  that  way." 

"  I  do  not  call  it  weakness." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not,  in  this  case — at  least,  I  hope 
not.  But  Father  has  always  had  a  romantic  notion 
of  finding  some  kind  of  an  ideal  young  man.  He  is 
always,  as  the  miners  call  it  '  prospecting '  for  such  a 
person.  An  honest,  heroic  young  fellow,  who  is  not 
spoiled  by  billiards  and  foolishness." 

"  Does  your  father  object  to  billiards,  and  permit 
billiard  tables  in  his  own  house?" 

"  No,  not  to  billiards  in  moderation.     But  he  dis- 


SAND.  51 

likes — I  may  say  abhors — all  futile  absorption.  You 
will  hear  him,  some  time,  talk  about  it — about  the 
young  men  of  this  age  throwing  their  immortal  souls 
into  billiard  balls,  and  lounging  their  energies  away 
in  the  smoke  of  fancy  brands  of  cigars,  and  so  forth." 

"Had  he  no  youthful  follies?" 

"I  do  not  know,  of  course;  but  as  near  as  I  can 
find  out,  father  has  always  been  a  worker  and  a 
driver.  Something  of  a  hero,  perhaps." 

•'On 'Change?" 

"More  than  that,  I  think.  The  men  who  were 
young  along  with  him,  years  ago,  have  told  me  that 
in  the  early  days  of  the  gold  diggings.  Father  used  to 
lead  the  fights  against  the  Indians  and  wrong-doers. 
I  have  also  heard  him  speak  of  such  things." 

"  Judith,  you  have  a  great  admiration  for  your 
father." 

"  I  should  say  I  had,"  said  Judith,  with  a  round, 
full,  and  assuring  emphasis.  "  My  father  is  the  jewel 
of  all  our  tribe.  Yet  he  is  so  modest  that  he  does 
not  know  it.  He  always  puts  mother's  people  above 
himself.  They  are  good  people,  it  is  true,  but  Father 
is  worth  all  of  them  put  together;  and  I  say  it,  not 
to  disparage  them,  but  to  do  him  justice." 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Maydole  has  characteristics 
resembling  those  of  your  father?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  Sometimes  I  think  he  has.  But 
we  cannot  tell  about  that  till  he  is  more  tried.  See 
what  my  father  has  corne  through  in  his  younger 
life:  leaving  home  almost  a  boy;  looking  out  for 


52  SAND 

himself;  then  plunging  into  the  wildest  days  of  the 
gold  excitement,  with  no  hand  to  softly — it  could 
not  have  been  done  any  other  way — hold  him  back 
from  the  riot  and  fascinations  of  those  times.  Yet 
here  he  is  to-day,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  a  strong,  clean, 
domestic  gentleman.  Out  of  the  midst  of  much  bad- 
ness he  has  grown  to  be  better  than  good." 

Miss  Alice  made  no  immediate  reply;  perhaps  she 
paused  to  hold  the  "  negative  "  against  the  shadow. 
Then  she  said: 

"  Judith,  you  are  like  your  father." 

"  Doubtless  I  look  like  him,  but  I'm  not  like  him." 

"  Why  not?" 

"  Because  he  is  self-poised  and  perpendicular,  while 
I  cling,  like  a  great  squash  vine,  to  whatever  is  higher 
than  I." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  a  woman." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  women  who  cling  to  nothing." 

"  Trial  may  deprive  you  of  your  tendrils — then  you, 
too,  will  be  self-poised  and  perpendicular." 

"  Never.  I  have  a  mother,  also,  as  well  as  a  father. 
"When  my  father  strikes  his  tent,  my  mother  mounts 
the  camel  of  obedience,  and  rides  in  the  family  cara- 
van, without  asking  i  whither.'  I  fear  I  have  inher- 
ited the  amiable  weakness." 

"  That  is  because  she  has  learned  to  follow  a  strong 
man." 

"  Well  I  shall  not  follow  a  weak  one,"  replied 
Judith,  in  what  seemed  flat  contradiction  of  herself; 
then  she  added:  "  I, at  least,  must  think  he  is  strong, 


SAND.  53 

or  I  never  will  put  myself  in  a  way  to  follow  him." 
This  conversation,  so  far,  does  not  seem  to  be  much 
of  a  discussion  of  Mr.  Maydole,  and  yet,  to  the  astute 
brain  of  Miss  Alice  Winans,  it  said  much  that  she 
wished  to  find  out  about  Mr.  Maydole's  prospective 
position  in  the  Hoi  ten  family,  and  caused  her  to  wish 
that  the  "  negative  "  would  fade  from  off  her  heart. 
In  the  days  through  which  this  little  story  runs 
the  news  did  not  travel  as  it  does  to-day.  It  had  to  be 
carried  partly  by  stage,  then  some  distance  by  rail; 
but  even  in  that  case  it  would  have  come  direct 
enough  if  the  news-gatherer  had  then  the  alert 
energy  which  is  manifest  to-day.  The  news  of  the 
attempted  stage-robbery  went  backward  to  the  prin- 
cipal mining  town  nearest  to  which  it  occurred,  and 
thence,  being  published  in  the  daily  town  paper  in 
full,  found  its  way,  as  a  brief  "  State  Item,"  into  the 
city  journals. 

No  whisper  of  Norman's  war  with  the  robbers  had 
yet  found  its  way  into  the  Hoi  ten  house;  but,  during 
the  late  evening  conversation  last  above  related  as 
occurring  between  Miss  Judith  and  Miss  Alice,  Col- 
onel Holten  came  in  with  his  country  mail,  as  it  was 
his  custom  to  keep  himself  posted  on  matters  through- 
out the  State,  and  sat  down  to  take  his  comfort  in  a 
quiet  glance  at  the  general  outlook.  He  read  away 
quietly  enough,  opening  paper  after  paper,  ripping 
off  the  wrappers  with  his  thumb,  till  at  length  he 
began  a  series  of  exclamations,  such  as,  "  Well  I  do 
declare!"  "Well  done!"  "Good  boy!"  "Served 


54:  SAND. 

'em  right!"  and  so  on,  until  his  wife,  catching  the 
excitement,  asked: 

""What  is  the  matter,  my  dear?  Is  there  a  break 
in  stocks?" 

"  No,  my  dear.  Listen."  Then  he  read  it  care- 
fully, in  good  style,  for  he  was  thoroughly  waked  up 
to  its  merits,  while  his  wife,  in  her  turn,  applauded 
with  astonished  exclamations. 

"I  must  take  it  right  straight  to  the  girls,"  said 
Mrs.  Hoi  ten,  grasping  the  paper,  and  passing  to  the 
door. 

"Tell  them  not  to  lose  that  paper,"  the  Colonel 
called  after  her  as  she  passed  out. 

Mrs.  Hoi  ten  carried  the  paper  to  her  daughter's 
apartments,  and  finding  the  young  ladies  not  yet 
gone  to  bed,  handed  it  in  at  the  door,  saying: 

"  Here's  news  for  you,  girls,"  and  straightway  re- 
turned to  her  husband. 

"  Read  it,  Alice,"  requested  Miss  Judith,  giving  it 
to  her  friend,  who  sat  half-buried  in  a  softly-cushioned 
chair;  and  Miss  Alice  read  as  follows: 

"THE  ROBBEK  FOILED!" 

"  THE  VILLAINOUS    *  COCHO  PIZAN'    PROBABLY    KILLED  BY  YOUNG 
MAYDOLE." 

Having  read  the  display  lines  at  the  head  of  the 
article,  she  laid  the  band  which  held  the  paper  down 
in  her  lap,  and  looked  at  her  companion. 

"  Read  on,"  said  Judith,  "and  let  us  know  if  this 
Cocho  is  a  pig  or  a  person." 


SAND.  55 

"  I  imagine  he  is  a  corpse.  Didn't  you  hear  him, 
at  the  breakfast  table,  admit  that  he  was  a  crack  shot, 
as  they  call  it?" 

"  I  don't  remember — read  on." 

Miss  Alice  looked  at  her  friend  again,  and  then 
read: 

"  The  down  stage  from  this  place  was  waylaid  on  Monday  fore- 
noon, at  Buckeye  Cafion,  by  three  masked  men,  heavily  armed 
with  double-barreled  shot-guns  and  revolvers.  *  Curly  Reese,  the 
driver,  says  that  the  robbers  leaped  into  the  road,  stopped  the  team, 
and  commanded*  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.  (son  of  our  worthy  County 
Clerk),  the  only  outside  passenger,  to  throw  up  his  hands.  May- 
dole  did  not  throw  up  his  hands  worth  a  cent ;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, drew  his  pistol  and  dropped  the  captain  of  the  gang  at  the 
first  fire,  then  continued  to  fire  upon  the  other  two,  while  he> 
1  Curly,'  plied  the  lash  to  his  horses  and  drove  out  of  range.  He 
further  states  that  the  whole  thing  did  not  last  a  minute,  and  that 
one  of  the  robbers — presumably  the  notorious  '  Cocho  Pizan' — is 
dead ;  and  he  thinks  also  one  of  the  other  robbers  is  as  good  as 
dead.  This  statement  is  confirmed  by  other  reports  from  down 
the  road. 

"  *  Curly'  exhibits  his  hat  perforated  by  a  ball ;  also,  the  ball, 
holes  in  his  coach,  and  states  that  young  Maydole  is  wounded  in 
one  of  his  shoulders,  but  not  seriously. 

"  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  is  a  most  worthy  young  man ;  pupil, 
friend  and  protege  of  the  late  lamented  and  admirable  Judge  Clay- 
ton. If  he  has  killed  the  famous  and  infamous  '  Cocho,'  he  has 
done  the  State  a  service,  and  set  our  people  an  example,  which,  if 
followed  up,  would  soon  make  of  stage-robbing  a  lost  art.  The 
stage  and  express  companies  should  make  to  the  young  man,  and 
also  to  the  driver,  some  fitting  testimonials  of  esteem  and  admira- 
tion for  their  gallant  conduct." 

'.'LATER. — 'Cocho  Pizan'  is  undoubtedly  dead;  which  fact 
proves  the  wisdom  of  the  colored  janitor  of  the  Court-house,  at 
this  place,  who  said,  wheu  the  rumor  was  first  heard  :  '  Yo'  bet 


56  SAND. 

yo'  life,  ef  Nawman  pinted  a  loaded  pistel  at  a  man,  and  fired  hit 
off,  dat  man's  dead— er  mighty  sick.' '' 

Then  Miss  Alice  laid  her  hands  and  the  newspaper 
in  her  lap,  and,  leaning  back  in  the  luxurious  chair, 
looked  at  Miss  Judith,  whose  eyes  were  brilliant  and 
steady. 

"  I  think  his  conduct  is  as  modest  and  heroic  as 
any  I  ever  heard  of — these  several  days  he  is  in  this 
house  talking  about  his  home  and  the  mountains,  and 
yet  never  to  mention  one  word  about  an  action  so 
gallant  and  so  very  recent.  It  almost  seems  that  he 
has  kept  it  back  for  dramatic  effect." 

"Oh,  no!  I  think  not,"  said  Miss  Alice,  in  a  weary 
sort  of  manner,  still  leaning  back  in  her  chair;  "I 
suppose  if  we  had  known  enough  to  lead  the  conver- 
sation in  that  direction,  he  would  have  talked  of  it." 

"  Would  not  you  have  spoken  of  it  among  your 
earliest  words,  if  you  had  been  in  his  place?" 

"  The  question  is  not  to  be  .asked  me — the  condi- 
tions are  impossible.  He  does  not  think  of  it  as  we 
do.  To  him  it  is  but  the  firing  off  of  a  gun,  to  which 
he  is  accustomed  as  to  the  snapping  of  one's  fingers; 
a  little  noise  and  racket — that's  all  it  is  to  him." 

"  But  you  forget  that  he  is  wounded,  and  has  been 
wounded  while  we  were  talking  to  him  all  these  days. 
It  does  not  seem  real.  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that 
such  a  man  could  be  so  near,  and  yet  look  so  little 
and  so  unlike  what  he  is." 

"  He  is  larger  than  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  than  Gen- 
eral Phil.  Sheridan,  or  than  many  other  men  who 
have  cast  long  shadows  across  the  world." 


SAND.  57 

"Alice,  it  don't  seem  to  me  we  have  been  as  con- 
siderate of  him  as  he  deserves.  I  begin  to  feel  a 
growing  sense  of  unworthiness  in  his  presence." 

"•His  conduct  has  been  very  direct,  honest,  simple, 
and  modest.'' 

"Well,"  said  Judith,  " my  mind  is  made  up.  I 
am  going  to  regard  him  hereafter  as  a  superior  per- 
son, and  treat  him  as  such." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Alice,  suppressing  a  yawn.  "Ju- 
dith, dear,  it  is  late — let  us  go  to  bed." 

Norman  was  abed  and  in  the  land  of  dreams,  utterly 
unconscious  that  he  was  to  awaken  in  the  morning  to 
find  himself  famous  throughout  the  house.  "When  he 
went  into  "the  den"  in  the  morning,  Colonel  Holten 
greeted  him  in  his  rapid  way: 

"  Ha!  Mr.  Maydole!  Glad  to  see  you  looking  finely. 
Letters  from  home  for  you,"  pointing  to  them  on  the 
desk.  "  I  have  also  received  the  papers  from  up  your 
way.  They  speak  very  highly  of  your  conduct  in  the 
fight  with  the  highwaymen.  You  should  have  told 
us  about  your  wound.  We  expect  you  to  act  in  this 
house  as  though  you  were  at  home — your  father  would 
never  forgive  me  if  you  were  to  suffer  from  neglect 
in  a  matter  of  that  kind.  You  should  have  told  us." 

"  The  wound  does  not  signify.  I  have  had  it  care- 
fully looked  after  according  to  Dr.  Minnis'  directions. 
It  has  given  me  little  or  no  trouble." 

"  Very  good,  very  good,"  and  he  sat  down  to  his 
absorbing  labors. 

Norman  read  his  letters.     There  was  a  joint  letter 


58  SAND. 

from  the  younger  children,  full  of  the  true  inward- 
ness of  home,  with  brief,  veracious  histories  of  every- 
thing, from  the  new  kittens  up  to  the  school  holiday 
owing  to  a  headache  of  the  teacher ;  also,  a  letter  from 
a  young  man  friend,  telling  him  the  social  news,  etc.; 
and,  more  than  all,  a  letter  from  his  mother,  in  which 
she  worried  herself  about  his  wound,  which  she  was 
glad,  however,  to  hear. was  not  of  a  serious  nature,  as 
far  as  reported,  and  therefore  commanded  him  to  tell 
her  all  the  particulars  about  it,  and  not  on  any  account 
to  neglect  relating  in  detail  all  the  circumstances. 
Then  she  wrote: 

"  Your  father  is  much  pleased  with  the  praise  of  your  conduct, 
which  he  receives  from  all  quarters,  regarding  how  you  behaved 
in  the  attack  on  the  stage,  and  I  am  very  proud  of  you ;  but,  O 
Norman!  be  careful  not  to  permit  yourself  to  look  upon  the  tak- 
ing of  a  human  life  as  a  light  thing.  I  put  great  faith  in  you, 
and  I  know  that  you  are  a  prudent  boy,  but  it  is  so  easy  to  fall  into 
the  habit  of  regarding  man-shooting  as  a  common  matter,  that  I 
wish  you  to  be  very  much  on  your  guard  against  such  a  line  of 
thought.  I  imagine,  when  one  is  so  intimately,  as  I  may  say, 
familiar  with  fire-arms  as  you  are,  the  tendency  is  to  use  them  on 
every  annoying  or  aggravating  occasion.  Life  is  easily  quenched, 
but  impossible  ever  to  relight.  So  many  generous  and  bravely 
impulsive  young  men,  in  this  and  other  States,  but  particularly 
in  California,  have  been  made  miserable  for  life  by  a  too  ready 
use  of  the  pistol,  that  I  dread  its  influence.  Do  not  understand 
me — but  then  I  know  you  will  not — to  be  saying  one  word  against 
a  proper  and  spirited  defense  of  one's  self,  or  of  the  public  good. 
In  short,  all  I  ask  of  you  is  to,  as  the  miners  say  it, '  go  slow.' " 

Norman  finished  reading  his  letters,  and  was  about 
to  go  to  work,  when  Colonel  Hoi  ten  suddenly  pushed 
back  the  papers  on  his  own  desk,  and  asked: 


SAND.  5£ 

"  What  headway  have  you  made  with  the  books, 
Mr.  Maydole?" 

u  I  think,"  replied  Norman,  "  about  all  that  I  can 
make  without  some  suggestion  or  new  light." 

"What's  the  conclusion?" 

"  It  is,  that  these  books  have  been  admirably  kept, 
but  that  the  business  to  which  they  refer  has  been 
singularly  conducted.  Here,"  continued  he,  passing 
across,  with  his  papers  in  his  hand,  to  Colonel  Hoi- 
ten,  "  is  a  transcript  of  what  I  may  call  the  facts  in 
the  case.  My  conclusion,  which  I  was  just  about  to 
write  out,  may  as  well  be  expressed  in  the  one  word, 
4  fraud,' "  and  he  passed  the  papers  into  the  Colonel's 
hands. 

Colonel  Holten  took  the  papers,  swung  around  to 
his  desk,  adjusted  his  eye-glasses;  Norman  went  back 
to  his  own  place,  and,  save  an  occasional  crackle  of  a 
turning  leaf  of  manuscript,  a  profound  silence  reigned 
in  the  room.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  Colonel 
Holten  uttered  his  usual  "  very  good,  very  good,"  laid 
his  eye-glasses  on  the  desk,  on  top  of  Norman's  man- 
uscript, wheeled  his  pivoted  seat  half  around,  and 
said: 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  get  more  light  on  this 
subject  if  you  were  upon  the  ground — or,  perhaps  I 
should  say,  under  the  ground — at  the  mine?" 

"  I  am  unable  to  say,  or  to  think,  what  I  could  do 
in  such  a  position.  I  can  try  it." 

"  They  are  a  rough  set  up  there.  They  might 
handle  you  very  roughly  if  you  sought  to  antagonize 
their  rules  and  regulations,  'Miners'  Union,'  etc." 


60  SAND. 

"  I  should  seek  no  antagonism  outside  the  proper 
line  of  my  duty." 

"  That  is  just  the  trouble.  We — I  mean  some  heavy 
owners — want  a  new  deal;  but  certain  fellows  in  the 
mine,  and  of  the  mine,  seem  determined  that  we  shall 
have  nothing  of  the  kind.  We  ought  to  have  a  man. 
or  men,  there — I  have  no  time  to  go  anywhere — and 
my  partners  are  in  the  same  fix.  We  were  drawn  in- 
to the  investment  by  an  old-timer — a  very  good  man, 
now  dead — who,  had  he  lived,  could  most  likely  have 
avoided  this  entanglement,  and  saved  us  from  numer- 
ous assessments,  if  he  could  not  have  given  us  an 
occasional  dividend.  We  have  sent  expert  book- 
keepers there,  and  they,  as  you  see,  have  kept  the 
books  in  admirable  disorder.  We  want  a  man  there 
who  will — mark  the  word! — will  see  what  is  done, 
when  it  is  done,  how  it  is  done,  by  whom  it  is  done, 
and  keep  an  honest  record  of  the  same.  We  do  not 
care  how  he  keeps  his  record,  whether  by  single-entry, 
double-entry,  or  with  a  poking-stick  in  the  ashes,  so 
long  as  he  gives  us  all  the  facts.  Such  a  man  will  be 
delayed,  prevented,  interfered  with,  annoyed,  aggra- 
vated, and  bamboozled,  if  it  be  possible  so  to  treat 
him.  Now,  I  have  told  all,  save  that  we  are  willing 
to  pay  a  high  salary  to  such  a  man,  and  back  him  up 
to  the  best  of  our  power.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
situation?" 

"I  will  take  it." 

"Done!  You  shall  have  it.  Let  us  go  to  break- 
fast." And  as  they  passed  out  into  the  hall,  he  added, 


SAND.  61 

u  We  will  see  you  fixed  for  this  situation  in  a  few 
days." 

At  the  morning  meal  Norman  found  himself  treated 
with  a  change  of  attentions,  and  he  did  not  like  the 
change.  The  concentration  of  the  family  talk  upon 
his  stage  ride  began  to  pall  upon  his  taste,  and  the 
more  distant  deference  was  less  pleasant  to  him  than 
the  unstudied  former  familiarity.  But  he  braved  the 
fire  of  compliment,  and  was  rather  glad  when  he  could 
retreat  in  good  order  to  "  the  den ;"  yet  he  took  note 
of  the  fact  that  Miss  Judith  seemed,  in  some  unac- 
countable way,  nearer  to  him  than  she  had  formerly 
been.  One  other  person  at  the  table  took  note  of  the 
same  fact. 

During  a  few  ensuing  days  Norman  had  no  occupa- 
tion, other  than  the  writing  of  letters  to  his  home, 
and  the  occasional  copying  of  important  papers  for 
his  busy  patron;  therefore,  he  amused  himself  with 
studies  of  the  city  ways  and  sights,  varied  now  and 
again  by  acting  as  escort  to  the  ladies  of  the  house, 
sometimes  on  foot,  but  more  often  on  wheels,  behind 
the  spirited  family  teams. 

In  one  of  the  leisurely  rambles  through  the  streets 
with  the  young  ladies,  he  met  with  a  provocation  that 
waked  him  up.  They  were  laughing  and  talking 
pleasantly,  with  no  thought  of  offense  to  any  one,  when 
they  attracted  the  attention  of  that  very  peculiar  dis- 
grace which  haunts  the  streets  of  San  Francisco — the 
hoodlum. 

From  a  crowd  of  jauntily  dressed  young  men,  who 


62  SAND. 

stood  in  front  of  a  cigar  shop,  with  hands  far  down 
in  breeches  pockets,  feet  wide  apart,  cigars  set  at  an 
elevated  acute  angle,  and  hats  propped  on  one  ear, 
Norman  heard  remarks  like  these: 

"Aw,  damme!  Gentleman  from  Snohomish,  escawt- 
ing  the  Nobhillitay." 

Norman's  ears  not  being  dulled  and  dead  to  street 
noises,  he  involuntarily  turned  his  eyes  upon  the 
crowd,  to  be  greeted  with : 

"Aw!  High-toned  Chinook  buck  from  Webfoot, 
prancing  out  with  his  squaws,"  exclaimed  in  execrable 
tones  of  the  burlesque  fashionable. 

Norman  and  the  ladies  had  not  altered  their  pace, 
but  he,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  hoodlum  crowd,  lost 
the  thread  of  conversation,  while  he  mentally  marked 
down  the  location  of  the  tobacco  store,  the  name  on 
the  signs,  and  the  attitude  of  the  traditional  graven 
image;  and  by  the  time  that  was  all  done,  he  had  fully 
passed  the  crowd,  which  now  stood  in  echelon  across 
the  walk  some  distance  behind  him,  gibing  at  him 
with  their  untranslatable  jargon  of  exclamations.  The 
young  ladies,  accustomed  to  pay  no  attention  to  noises 
in  the  streets,  if  they  noted  the  rudeness  at  all,  let  it 
go  as  it  came.  Norman  made  no  audible  remark 
upon  the  subject,  and  to  all  outward  appearance  had  let 
it  pass,  and  gone  forward  with  the  walk  and  conver- 
sation. 

When  Norman  and  his  friends  passed  away,  there 
entered  the  cigar  store  a  tall,  nimble-stepping,  elderly- 
young  man,  wearing  a  nobby  gray  plaid  suit,  high- 


SAND.  63 

heeled,  stub-toed  boots,  a  new  broad-brimmed  soft 
black  hat,  a  fancy  colored  shirt-front,  adorned  with 
large  gold  stud-buttons,  a  ceruleous  necktie,  and  a 
heavy  silver  vest  chain,  to  which  was  attached  a  pen- 
dant bright  gold  model  of  a  horseshoe.  His  broad- 
brimmed  hat  sat  far  enough  to  one  side  to  show  his 
close-cropped,  curly  hair,  and  give  a  striking  profile 
view  of  his  sun-tanned  face  and  wide-awake  expres- 
sion. 

"  Gimme,"  said  he,  shoving  his  hat  to  the  back  of 
his  head,  and  running  his  hand  down  into  his  breeches 
pocket,  as  he  stepped  up  to  the  counter,  addressing 
the  disciple  of  Nicote,  ua  fust-rate  seegar.  I  don't 
want  no  loud  old  perfumery  weed,  if  ye  hear  me." 

When  the  salesman  "set  'em  up"  to  him  with  vari- 
ous explanations  as  to  brands,  etc.,  he  selected  such 
and  as  many  as  he  wan  ted,  paid  for  them,  pocketed 
all  his  purchase  but  one,  the  finished  end  of  which  he 
bit  oft*  with  his  even  teeth,  procured  a  light,  and,  lean- 
ing in  an  easy  attitude  against  the  counter,  proceeded 
to  smoke,  while  he  twiddled  the  golden  horseshoe 
between  his  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"  You  ain't  the  same  feller  'at  kep'  this  place  three 
yer  ago?" 

"  No,  I  pought  him  ouat  apout  dwendy  monts  ago." 

"  Wher'  is  he  now?" 

"  I  couldn'  told  you — he  vent  avay  somvere." 

"  I  reckon  he  did,  ef  he  ain't  yer  no  more,"  responded 
the  smoker,  blowing  a  fancy  fleece  of  smoke  past  the 
corner  of  his  off  eye  up  toward  the  ceiling. 


64:  SAND. 

The  hoodlum  crowd  still  hung  about  the  door  of 
the  shop,  conversing  in  their  slangy  drawl,  and  mak- 
ing chaffy  observations  on  the  appearance  and  char- 
acter of  the  passing  persons  in  the  street,  and  upon 
this  crowd  the  man  with  the  horseshoe  seemed  to  be 
keeping  a  half  attentive,  half  careless  eye,  when  his 
attention  in  that  direction  was  aroused  to  that  decree 

O 

that  he  suddenly  threw  away  his  cigar,  pulled  his  hat 
down  to  his  eyes,  and  began  turning  up  his  sleeve- 
cuffs  as  he  advanced  softly  toward  the  door,  which  he 
reached  in  time  to  hear  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  who 
had  just  stepped  into  the  crowd,  ask: 

"Am  I  mistaken  in  supposing  that  I  was  favored 
with  a  few  remarks,  a  short  time  since,  by  some  per- 
son in  this  crowd?" 

"N-aw!  Yer  not  mistaken.  WhatV  ye  givin* 
us,  any  way,"  and  the  speaker  swaggered  up  to  Nor- 
man with  upturned  cheek  and  protruding  under  jaw. 

"Are  you  the  person  who  made  those  remarks?" 

"  Yaws.     I  am  the — 

Norman  clutched  him  by  the  throat,  pushed  him 
away  to  the  length  of  his  long  left  arm  and  was  mak- 
ing a  dismal  ruin  of  his  impudent  face  with  the 
knuckles  of  the  other  hand,  when  the  crowd  of  city 
coyotes  piled  in  on  him. 

"  STAY  with  'em,  Mr.  Maydole;  I'll  take;some  of  it 
in  mine!" 

Norrnan  released  his  now  harmless  first  opponent, 
and  proceeded  to  do  some  extra  fast  and  promiscuous 
heavy  "sparring,"  in  which  he  was  ably  seconded  by 


SAND.  65 

the  man  with  the  horseshoe,  so  that  by  the  time 
the  policeman  came  up  on  the  double-quick  there 
was  a  comparative  cessation  of  hostilities,  caused  by  a 
failure  of  reinforcements  on  the  hoodlum  side.  Nor- 
man's forces,  "  firm,  though  few,"  were,  as  the  night 
was  falling,  ready  to  sleep  on  the  battle-field,  if  need 
be;  but  the  inexorable  arm  of  the  law  led  them  away, 
along  with  a  small  portion  of  the  opposing  party, 
toward  the  place  where  charges  are  preferred.  As 
they  walked  along,  Norman,  having  had  a  moment  to 
breathe,  extended  his  hand  to  the  horseshoe  man,  say- 
ing: 

"  Mr.  Reese,  I  am  obliged  to  you,  and  very  glad  to 
see  you." 

"  Well,  ef  you  think  I  ain't  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
"Curly,"  grasping  the  hand,  "you're  a  little  off. 
Whooh!"  he  added,  throwing  his  arms  out  in  front  of 
him,  and  then  proceeding  to  turn  down  his  sleeve- 
cuffs.  "  We  made  it  purty  damned  hot  fer  that  crowd, 
ef  ye  hear  me." 

Arrived  at  the  police  office,  the  proper  officer  list- 
ened to  the  charge  as  made  by  the  policeman,  against 
Norman  Maydole  and  Talman  Reese,  of  that  form  of 
misdemeanor  called  "  battery." 

"What's  'battery?'  "  asked  "Curly,"  to  whose  ear  a 
fist-fight  by  that  name  seemed  a  new  sort  of  offense. 

"  Fighting.     Thumping.     Breaking  the  peace." 

"  I  didn't  break  any  peace.  I  was  tryin'  to  keep  it 
from  being  broke,"  said  "  Curly." 

"  You  looked  mighty  like  a  man  making  war,  when 
5 


66  SAN  D. 

I  sighted  you,"  remarked  a  policeman,  with  a  smile. 

"Curly"  chuckled  an  instant,  and  then  said: 

"All  right;  everything  goes;  but  if  a  feller  ain't 
keepin'  the  peace  when  he  tries  to  keep  live  or  six 
huskies  from  pilin'  into  one  man,  I'd  like  to  know 
what  you  call  it?" 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  officer,  "the  charge  of  bat- 
tery is  filed  against  you.  You  may  be  admitted  to 
bail,  pending  your  appearance,  or  go  into  custody." 

Norman  made  no  remark  in  the  office  to  any  one. 
He  knew  the  offense  was  bailable.  He  intended  to 
give  bail,  but  he  was  considering  in  his  own  mind  as 
to  whom,  among  his  very  few  acquaintances  in  the  city, 
he  would  send  for,  and  had  about  concluded  to  dis- 
patch a  messenger  direct  to  Colonel  Hoi  ten,  when 
"Curly"  blundered  into  a  ready  solution  of  the  whole 
matter. 

"Can't  a  feller  put  up  the  scads  for  bail?" 

"  Yes,"  briefly  answered  the  officer. 

"  How  much  for  both  of  us? — we  wasn't  huntin'  no 
light — now  recollec'." 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  each." 

"Hell,  that's  nothin'!"  said  "Curly,"  placing  three 
golden  twenties  upon  the  desk.  "  There's  the  c'lat- 
teral.  Give  us  a  receipt  for  two,  and  ten  dollars 
change  on  the  side,"  said  he,  in  the  regular  restaurant 
tone. 

The  tender  was  so  quickly  made  that  Norman  had 
barely  time  to  utter  his  remonstrance  against  the  lib- 
erality of  his  friend,  when  the  officer,  as  he  handed 
the  change  to  "Curly,"  remarked: 


SAND.  67 

"All  right,  gentlemen.     To-morrow  at  9  A.  M." 

When  Norman  and  "Curly"  passed  out  of  the  police 
office  into  the  street,  Norman  said: 

"  Let  me  again  express  the  deep  obligation  I  am 
under  to  you,  Mr.  Reese." 

"  Well,"  said  "  Curly,"  "ef  you  like  to  express  it, 
that's  all  right;  but  you  needn't  lose  no  sleep  over  it 
on  my  account.  I  wouldn't  a  missed  that  little  dis- 
cussion fer  a  summer's  wages.  That's  the  best  thing 
ever  I  tumbled  to." 

"  You  handle  your  hands  very  well,  Mr.  Reese." 

"  I  hain't  no  science  to  amount  to  nothin',  but  I'm 
hell  on  main  strength  an'  okerdness.  One  o'  them 
cusses  had  his  gun  out  on  the  sly,  and  was  praricin' 
round  the  outside,  tryin'  to  get  a  pop  at  you — I  got  a 
show  at  him  where  I  had  plenty  of  elbow  room,  and 
I  give  him  a  Joe  Glinter  under  the  lug;  he  went  one 
way  an'  his  pop-gun  the  other,  an'  they  both  lit  on  the 
ground  somewheres — I  didn't  stop  to  see  wher';"  and 
this  performance  seemed  so  extremely  playful  and 
facetious  to  him,  that  "Curly"  laughed  till  he  half 
strangled,  and  went  into  a  mild  fit  of  coughing. 

"  When  did  you  leave  the  road  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  left  the  road.  The  agent  give  me  two 
weeks  on  full  pay  to  take  a  little  pasear,  on  account  of 
us  gettin'  away  from '  Cocho.'  I  thought  'at  I'd  come 
down  to  the  Bay ;  so  I  got  a  free  pass  down  and  back, 
drord  my  reserve  fun's,  and  I've  been  yer  two  or  three 
days." 

"  I  hope  you  are  having  a  nice  time." 


68  SAND. 

"Bully!  The  express  agent  ga'  me  a  letter  to  the 
head  office,  an'  told  me  ef  I  got  strapped,  or  cinched 
any  way,  to  go  ther'.  I  was  never  better  fixed  in  my 
life." 

"  The  agent  has  done  right,"  said  Norman. 

"  He  went  up  to  your  house  at  home,  and  was  taik- 
ing  to  your  father  about  the  company  givin'  you  a 
present  of  a  gold  watch,  or  some  thin';  but  the  old 
man  jist  r'ar'd  back  on  his  paster'  jints,  and  said,  'he 
hoped  no  son  of  his  wouldn't  consent  to  receive  any 
materel  reward  for  doing  the  duty  of  a  gentleman.' 
Oh,  I  tell  ye,  the  old  man  tuck  high  Southern  ground 
with  him.  He  did  that." 

"About  the  duties  of  a  gentleman,  my  father  is 
sometimes  a  little  Quixotic." 

"A  little  what?"  asked  «  Curly." 

"  Quixotic,"  said  Norrnan,  pronouncing  in  the 
English  style. 

"  Damfi  know  what  that  is." 

"  It  is  merely  an  illustration  drawn  from  the  story 
of  the  Knight  of  La  Mancha,  who  used  to  fight  wind- 
mills." 

"  O-h-h,  yes,  —I  know.  Old  Donkey  Hoty.  The 
high-toned  old  rooster  who  went  around  gittin'  heads 
put  on  him.  He  had  the  sand,  but  he  didn't  pick  his 
fights  wuth  a  damn.  Old  Sanches  used  to  wake  me 
up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  laughin'  at  him,  an' 
that  swamper  o'  his'n  'at  rid  round  after  him  on  the 
burro" 

"What  Sanches?" 


SAND.  69 

"  Oh,  an  old  cabin  pard  o'  mine  'at  used  to  sleep  all 
day,  arid  play  monte  and  read  all  night." 

"  How  did  it  happen  that  you  fell  into  this  diffi- 
culty of  mine  this  evening?" 

"  Well,  I've  been  kind  o'  rather  more'n  half  lookin' 
fer  you,  in  a  keerless  way,  ever  sence  I  come  down, 
and  I  dropped  on  you  this  afternoon  when  you  was 
walkin'  with  the  ladies.  I  knowed  I  couldn't  chip  in 
then — so  I  sort  o'  santered  along,  beiri'  it  was  as  cheap 
fer  me  to  go  one  way  as  another — having  nothing  else 
to  do — thinkin'  I  might  git  a  show  to  speak  to  you 
when  you'd  git  through  with  what  you  was  at;  not 
knowin'  wher'  you  put  up.  Then  I  seed  them  fancy 
ducks  chuckin'  chin  at  you,  and  I  got  Jnigh  enough 
to  hear  part  of  them  remarks  about  squaws.  'Hell!' 
says  I  to  myself;  '  I  won't  have  no  trouble  seem'  him 
now;'  fer  I  know'd  mighty  well  you'd  come  back." 

Norman  laughed. 

."  Yes,  I  did  that!  So  I  went  in  ther',  bought  some 
seegars,  and  was  joshin'  the  Jew,  when  you  riz  that 
pint  o'  order  'at  brot  on  the  debate." 

Norman  laughed  again,  for  the  reaction  of  his  feel- 
ings gave  him  an  unusual  sympathy  with  u  Curly  V 
breezy  buoyancy.  After  the  laugh  he  asked  "  Curly  " 
to  look  into  his  face  and  tell  him  if  he  could  discover 
any  bruise  or  discoloration. 

u  Not  a  speck,"  said  that  person,  after  a  brief  exam- 
ination. 

"  I  have  received  some  thumps  about  the  head,  and 
one  blow  on  this  side  of  my  face.  I  propose  that  we 
go  to  a  barber's  and  get  washed  and  brushed." 


70  SAN  D. 

"That's  my  idea  to  a  ha'r,"  responded  "Curly;" 
"and  after  that  I  propose  that  we  go  to  a  high-tone 
res'trant  and  take  some  grub.  Isn't  there  a  Poodle 
Dog,  er  a  Bull  Pup,  er  some  other  place  wher'  they 
put  on  style  about  knee  deep?" 

"  I  have  not  yet  been  to  any  such  place,"  answered 
Norman,  smiling,  "and  I  regret  that  I  can  not  go 
now,  because  I  left  important  business  unfinished  to 
come  back  to  the  row  we  have  just  had." 

"All  right,"  said  "  Curly,"  a  little  crest-fallen,  for 
he  had  set  his  heart  on  having  one  of  those  "  good 
times  "  which  are  at  once  the  pleasure  and  the  danger 
of  fresh  men;  "you're  able  to  paddle yer  own  canoe." 

After  awash  and  general  outward  adjustment  Nor- 
man said  to  "Curly:" 

"Mr.  Reese,  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  come 
with  me  I  will  pay  back  to  you  the  cash  you  are  out 
on  this  fracas.  The  other  debt  I  never  can  pay,  but 
I  shall  always  be  ready  to  do  so." 

"  Oh,  damn  the  pay!  Let  her  rip  till  to-morrow  at 
9  A.  M." 

"  But  perhaps  I  shall  not  be  in  attendance  at  the 
court  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  but  we've  got  to  be  ther." 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Norman. 

Now  "  Curly"  had  a  secret  notion  that  an  account 
of  his  arraignment  along  with  Norman  before  the 
police  court,  when  published  in  the  city  papers,  would 
be  a  good  card  among  his  horsey  friends  in  the  moun- 
tains— but  Norman  had  other  views  of  the  matter. 


SAND.  71 

u  Curly"  consented,  after  solicitation,  to  go  along 
and  get  his  money;  but  when  he  became  aware  that 
the  whole  sum  was  being  returned  to  him,  he  got 
indignant,  and  asked  Norman  what  he  took  him  for 
—was  it  supposed  that  he  was  a  "  quitter,  a  bump  on 
a  log,  a  wild  hog  in  the  tule?"  and  no  reasoning  could 
induce  him  to  accept  more  than  half  the  sum. 

Norman  finally  planned  some  other  way  to  repay 
him  in  future,  bade  him  a  kindly  good-evening,  arid 
hastened  away  about  other  matters  more  important  to 
himself,  and  not  in  any  way  directly  concerning  Mr. 
Talman  Reese.  If  moralizing,  in  fiction  as  well  as  in 
reality,  were  not  relegated  to  the  lumber  loft  of  use- 
less, old  fashioned  things,  it  might  be  well  to  note 
here  that  Norman  made  a  fortunate  escape,  not  from 
the  hoodlum  fight,  but  from  Talman  Reese  and  his 
own  feelings;  because,  when  a  man  is  young  and  finds 
a  gallant  friend  who  has  just  stood  by  him  in  a  hard- 
fought  battle,  resulting  in  some  degree  of  victory,  the 
invitation  to  cut  loose  and  enjoy  the  fine  things  of  a 
jolly  good  fellowship  is  a  terrible  temptation.  Nor- 
man was  neither  a  niggard  nor  a  cold-blooded  ascetic, 
but  he  was,  by  nature  and  education,  inclined  to  mind 
his  own  business.  That  is  what  saved  him.  The 
man  who  cannot  be  saved  in  the  same  way  is  beyond 
salvation  in  this  world — and  is  a  case  of  quien  sdbe  f 
for  the  next. 


CHAPTER  III. 

When  Norman  Maydole  left  Mr.  Talman  Reese  the 
latter  gentleman  went  his  way,  while  Norman  turned 
his  steps  and  his  attention  toward  the  residence  of 
Colonel  Holten. 

He  found  the  young  ladies  safely  at  home,  whither 
they  had  been  accompanied  by  the  neighboring  gen- 
tleman in  whose  charge  he  had  left  them  when  he  was 
about  to  seek  some  settlement  of  honors  with  the  coy- 
otes of  the  streets.  The  ladies  had  more  of  a  sus- 
picion of  the  true  cause  of  his  absence  than  they  had 
yet  confessed,  or  even  alluded  to;  but  when  the  din- 
ner was  dispatched,  with  the  accompaniment  of  good 
humor  and  pleasant  conversation — in  which  Norman 
took  a  modest  part — there  was  a  move  made  by  the 
young  ladies  to  repair  to  the  music  parlor,  a  sort  of 
unique  apartment  devised  and  fitted  out  after  plans 
by  the  Colonel  under  the  advisory  supervision  of  his 
eldest  daughter  and  his  wife.  This  apartment  was  a 
sitting-room — a  parlor — a  music  hall — a  children's 
romping  room — all  in  one.  A  comfortable  place  for 
every  one  in  the  household.  Judith  called  it  u  Lib- 
erty Hall."  To  this  room  Norman  followed  the 
young  ladies,  but  just  at  the  door  Miss  Alice  had 
excuse  to  consult  Mrs.  Holten  about  some  matter,  and 
upon  her  going  to  attend  to  it,  Norman  found  him- 
self alone  with  Miss  Judith. 

72 


s  A  N  r>.  73 

"  Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Maydole,"  said  Judith,  prepar- 
ing herself  to  be  seated. 

He  was  about  to  sit  down  in  the  heavy  roller-chair 
next  to  where  he  stood,  when  she  said: 

"  Take  this  chair,"  laying  her  hand  upon  it.  "The 
furniture  of  this  room  must  be  studied  to  get  the 
comfort  of  it.  Our  gentlemen  all  favor  this  chair." 

Then  when  he  was  seated  she  sat  down  opposite  to 
him  on  what  ought  to  have  been  a  sofa,  but  the  fur- 
niture man  called  it  by  a  finer  name.  The  chair  in 
which  Norman  sat  was  upholstered  in  such  colors 
upon  its  heavy  arms  and  high  back,  and  in  such  man- 
ner, as  to  contrast  with  his  black  clothes  and  make 
him  look  proportionately  larger  then  when  standing 
up.  The  general  tone  and  coloring  of  the  room  were 
in  his  favor,  so  that,  notwithstanding  his  late  tousling 
he  looked  about  as  well  as  he  could  hope  to  look  at 
that  date  in  his  existence. 

"  Do  they  like  music  at  your  home,  Mr.  Maydole?" 

"  Yes,  everybody  in  our  house  plays  a  little  on  the 

piano,  sings  a  little — except "  pausing,  he  smiled, 

and  added,  "The  baby;  and  it  makes  music  which  I 
cannot  call  singing,  exactly." 

"  That  is  very  pleasant." 

"Which — the  baby?"  very  seriously. 

"No-o-o-o!"  said  Judith,  laughing,  "I  say  it  is 
very  pleasant  where  a  whole  family  join  in  the  same 
diversion 

"  Very  pleasant — but  noisy  at  times.  We  are  very 
noisy  people  at  our  house  when  we  are  in  the  sitting- 
room,  and  all  get  going — big  and  little." 


74  SAND. 

"  Do  you  all  sing  together?" 

"  Well,  that  depends  on  what  you  call  singing — we 
can  make  a  noise  all  together." 

"A  satisfactory  noise?"  assuming  a  reflex  of  his 
serious  demeanor. 

"  Yes.  The  noise  seems  satisfactory  to  the  parties 
performing.  I  cannot  answer  as  to  the  satisfaction 
of  outside  persons." 

"  Music  hath  charms,"  quoted  she. 

"  Always,"  he  replied,  "  for  amateurs  who  are 
making  it." 

"  I  fear  you  are  cynically  inclined  this  evening,  Mr. 
Maydole." 

"  1  hope  not." 

u  Yes;  I  apprehend  something  must  have  happened 
while  we  were  out  walking  to-day,  which  does  not  add 
to  the  comfort  of  your  digestion." 

"  Not  at  all."  answered  Norman,  lightly. 

"  If  you  mean  it, Mr.  Maydole, I  must  believe  you; 
but  it  would  be  a  great  aid  to  my  credulity  if  you 
would  tell  me  why  you  left  us  to-day." 

"  I  left  you  to  try  to  punish  a  man  who  insulted 
me,"  he  answered,  frankly  and  deliberately. 

•'  Thank  you,  Mr.  Maydole.  I  was  apprehensive 
you  had  gone  to  punish  some  one  for  insults  offered 
to  others.'1 

Norman  paused  a  few  moments  to  look  steadily 
into  the  face  of  the  young  woman  before  him,  and 
then  said:  * 

"  When  non-combatants  are  insulted   or  sought  to 


SAND.  i  a 

be  insulted  in  my  immediate  Dresence — I  am  in- 
sulted/' 

••  You  did  not  go  back  to  tight  with  those  men  who 
were  making  remarks  on  the  street  to-day?" 

*4 1  did,"  said  Norman,  meekly. 

u  Did  you  fight  them?" 

"  I  did,"  more  meekly. 

"  Did  you  whip  them?" 

"  Not  all  of  them,"  he  replied,  in  abject  humilia- 
tion. 

u  Were  you  arrested  ?" 

"  I  was,"  with  great  self-abasement. 

"And  taken  to  the  police  station?" 

"  Even  so." 

Then  she  looked  at  him  as  he  sat  in  the  arm-chair,, 
silent  and  immobile  as  the  Sphinx,  and  burst  into  a 
fit  of  uncontrollable  laughter,  which,  like  a  contagion, 
extended  to  Xorman,  and  he,  too,  throwing  his  head 
back  against  the  heavy  upholstery  of  the  chair  he  sat 
in,  enjoyed  himself  with  the  glee  of  childhood. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Maydole,"  said  Miss  Judith, 
wiping  her  eyes,  ki  my  risibles  are  not  under  perfect 
control." 

"Entirely  excusable,"  he  replied,  with  the  placid 
gravity  of  a  tombstone;  "  but  I  fail  to  see  the  felici- 
tous humor  in  this  conversation." 

"  That's  where  the  humor  of  it  is,"  she  said,  laugh- 
ing again. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  a  very  kindly  thing  to  laugh  at 
a  *  fellow  from  the  country.'  " 


76  SAND. 

"  Now  let  us  be  serious,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  ex- 
pect to  fight  every  person  in  this  city  who  makes 
*  aside'  remarks  which  can  be  construed  into  inten- 
tional insult?" 

"  Well,  then,  Miss  Holten,  to  be  serious — if,  indeed, 
I  can  be  any  more  serious  than  I  have  all  along  been 
—I  will  fight  any  masculine  of  the  genus  homo,  any- 
where, '  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires,'  who  inten- 
tionally calls  me  a  '  Chinook  buck,'  or  intimates  that 
the  ladies  in  my  company  are  squaws." 

She  answered  by  another  burst  of  laughter,  and 
then  asked: 

"Do  you  think  you  can  whip  this  town?" 

"  I  can  whip  some  of  it,"  he  replied. 

"They  will  worry  the  life  out  of  you;  you  must 
get  used  to  it — as  we  all  are.  We  pay  no  attention  to 
them." 

"  In  the  meantime,  there  is  an  opportunity  for  a 
choice  few  of  them  to  get  used  to  me,"  said  Norman, 
looking  as  if  he  meant  business. 

"Why,  you  might  as  well  try  to  fight  the  dogs  of 
Constantinople?" 

"  Well,"  he  almost  sadly  replied,  "  with  the  firman 
of  the  Sultan,  the  blessing  of  the  Prophet,  and  a  good 
American  revolving  pistol,  perhaps  I  could  discour- 
age the  dogs  a  little." 

She  laughed  again,  and,  during  her  laughter,  Miss 
Alice  entered  the  room,  remarking  as  she  did  so: 

u  Whence  this  hilarity?  May  I  not  know?"  and 
she  sat  down  upon  the  sofa  beside  Judith. 


SAND.  77 

"  You  shall  know,  Miss  Winans;  and  I  will  appeal 
to  your  sense  of  justice.  This  young  lady  is  laugh- 
ing herself  into  Elysium  over  the  too  froward  valor 
of  a  young  man  from  the  rural  precincts.  And  I  am 
that  unfortunate  young  man." 

"Alice,  let  me  tell  you  before  you  respond  to  his 
appeal.  He  has  entered  the  field  as  the  Knight  of 
Rugby,  to  do  doughty  deeds  in  defense  of  forlorn 
damosels;  and  I  am  laughing  for  joy." 

"  Ah!  beautiful,  splendid!"  said  Miss  Alice,  with 
well-assumed  admiration.  "  Are  we  to  assist  when  he 
caparisons  his  horse,  dons  his  armor,  clasps  his  sword 
and  buckles  on  his  spurs?" 

44  Oh,  no!  He  is  not  of  that  order  of  knights.  He 
belongs  to  the  chivalry  of  the  shoulder,"  said  Miss 
Judith.  (And  if  this  writing  did  not  ante-date  the 
Pinafore  furore,  she  would  have  added,  with  calis- 
thenic  illustration,  "  arid  this  is  his  customary  at-ti- 
tude.") 

"  Now,  by'r  Lady,  it  is  a  noble  court  whereof  thou 
speakest.  Beshrew  me,  but  they  are  valorous  knights. 
Mine  eyes  have  beheld  them  in  the  lists,  where  they 
did  mock  the  doughty  deeds  of  war  in  histrionic  pic- 
tures of  the  ring.  And  I  have  been  affrighted  e'en 
with  the  padded  buffeting  that  sent  the  palpitated 
pugilist  to  grass." 

In  response  to  this  heroic  mockery,  Norman  sim- 
ply clapped  his  long  hands  enthusiastically,  and 
otherwise  sat  perfectly  still. 

Though  no  ladies'  man,  he  had  seen  enough  of  girl- 


78  SAN  D. 

hood  humors  to  believe  that  he  was  being  "joshed" 
without  any  adequate  reason;  but  he  also  knew  jthat 
this  teasing  was,  in  some  sort,  an  admission  that  he 
was  worth  it — people  seldom  tease  sticks. 

"  Mr.  Maydole,"  said  Judith,  "  I  forgot  to  ask  you 
if  the  cruel  war  is  over — is  it?" 

"  So  far  as  I  am  inclined,  it  is.  I  shall  never  again 
have  the  nerve  to  put  up  rny  hands,  offensive  or  defen- 
sive." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Maydole,  you  should  read  Cervantes," 
said  Miss  Alice. 

"  I  have  read  him  enough  to  know  that  the  Dul- 
cinea  del  Toboso  is  too  practically  proud  to  look 
kindly  on  the  hero  of  her  honor/' 

"Oh,  Sir  Knight,  that  remark  is  unworthy  of  you. 
I  am  sure  you  will  find  no  ;  ladie  faire'  of  this  day 
who  will  look  unkindly  upon  a  heroic  action." 

"  The  assurance  is  very  comforting,"  he  said. 

Other  members  of  the  family  coming  in,  the  even- 
ing gradually  resolved  itself  into  a  family  concert, 
during  a  portion  of  which  Miss  Alice  beguiled  Nor- 
man into  a  tete-d-tete  relation  of  his  row  in  the  street 
and  his  consequent  arrest,  whereupon  she  quoted  to 
him  the  fighting  advice  of  Polonius  to  his  son,  to 
which  he  responded: 

"  Thank  you;  I  have  been  there — please  excuse  the 
slang." 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "a  little — a  very  little — slang,  aptly 
put,  is  the  life  of  the  lexicographer.  Language,  like 
jealousy,  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on." 


SAND.  <y 

Then  she  left  him  to  join  Miss  Judith  in  a  duet  at 
the  piano,  because  Colonel  Holten,  as  well  as  two  or 
three  other  parties,  male  and  female,  who  had  casually 
come  in,  were  there  to  enjoy  the  freedom  of  Liberty 
Hall.  There  was  music,  conversation,  and  comfort. 
The  girls  all  played  and  sang.  A  lady  visitor  also 
played  and  sang. 

"Now,Mr.  Maydole  will  sing  for  us,"  said  Judith, 
attracting  thereby  the  attention  of  Norman,  who  was 
earnestly  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  singing 
visitor's  husband. 

"Do  you  sing,  Mr.  Maydole?"  asked  Mrs.  Holten. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Judith;  "he  told  me  this  evening 
that  all  his  family  could  sing  but  himself — and  he 
could  sing  a  little,  too." 

Norman  made  no  more  ado,  but  walked  over  to  the 
piano,  and  as  he  passed  by  where  Miss  Alice  was  sit- 
ting, she  asked: 

"Shall  I  play  for  you?" 

He  shook  his  head,  smiled,  and  passed  on. 

In  Norman's  soft  voice  there  was  that  weird, 
pathetic  thrill  which  is  often  found  accompanying 
deep-cut  characters  of  nervous  temperament.  He 
took  his  seat  by  the  instrument,  struck  a  few  notes, 
and  then  sang,  playing  his  own  accompaniment, 
guided  by  his  ear,  the  following  song: 

What's  in  the  wild  hills  sighing, 
Soft  o'er  the  snows  and  the  pine, 

Sighing,  sighing, 
Afar  on  the  day's  decline. 


80  SAND. 

What's  in  the  hut  on  the  hillside? 
What's  on  the  cot  by  the  wall  ? 

Hillside,  hillside, 
There  where  the  snow  covers  all  ? 

Faintly  he  sighs  wkile  he's  dreaming — 
Smiles  to  the  visions  that  come — 

Dreaming,  dreaming, 
Dreaming  of  childhood  and  home. 

"Father,  and  mother,  and  sister " 

List,  he  hath  something  to  say — 

"  Sister,  sister, 
Sing  for  me — *  Queen  of  the  May.'  " 

Far  is  his  father  and  mother, 
Far  is  his  sister  away — 
"  Mother,  Mother, 
Pray  for  me,  kiss  me,  and  pray." 

Dead  in  his  bed  on  the  hillside, 
Dead  on  his  cot  by  the  wall, 

Hillside,  hillside, 
There  where  the  snow  covers  all. 

Green  is  the  trail  in  the  springtime, 
Adown  by  the  broad  brook's  side — 

Springtime,  springtime. 
Green  since  the  miner  died. 

What's  in  the  wild  hills  sighing 
So  soft  through  the  waving  pine, 

Sighing,  sighing, 
Afar  on  the  day's  decline  ? 

When  lie  ceased  to  sing,  there  was  a  stillness  in 
the  room  as  dead  as  the  miner  in  his  song.  Colonel 
Holten  was  bravely,  but'silently,  blowing  his  nose  in 
his  handkerchief,  under  the  delusive  impression  that 
lie  was  suddenly  attacked  with  catarrh;  the  two 


SAND.  81 

younger  girls  had  drawn  near  to  the  piano,  and  were 
looking  at  Norman  with  a  pathetic  funereal  expres- 
sion; Mrs.  Hoi  ten,  being  easily  moved  to  tears,  was 
crying;  what  the  rest  of  the  company  were  doing 
could  not  well  he  ascertained  before  Miss  Alice 
remarked: 

"  Why,  Mr.  Maydole,  where  in  the  world  did  you 
get  such  a  horribly  sad  song?" 

"Cut  it  out  of  an  old  newspaper,"  sententiously 
remarked  Norman,  as  he  came  away  from  the  piano. 

"Many,  many,are  the  poor  fellows  who  have  gone 
out  that  way  in  the  history  of  this  State,"  said  Col- 
onel Hoi  ten;  "but  not  generally  in  a  spirit  so  prayer- 
ful." 

"Who  wrote  the  air  to  your  song,  Mr.  Maydole?" 
asked  Judith. 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  ever  was  written.  It 
sprouted  from  the  red  earth,  I  imagine,  in  the  foot- 
prints of  the  pioneer,  like  other  wild-weed  flowers 
that  follow  our  civilization,  and  beg  for  a  kindly 
recognition  which  they  seldom  get." 

"  It  has  the  far-away  wail  of  a  Celtic  sadness — Irish, 
perhaps,"  said  Miss  Alice. 

"  It  may  be,"  said  Norman;  "  I  have  been  told  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  Ireland  in  the  musical  taste  of 
America." 

"Ah,  well,  we  cannot  tell,"  said  Colonel  Holteii; 
"  the  men  of  the  early  mining  days  were  strangely 
pathetic  under  all  their  wild  exterior.  I  have  known, 
among  the  roughest  of  them,  men  who  would  sit 


82  S  A.  N  L). 

with  their  feet  up  on  the  rough  jamb  of  the  smoke- 
begrimed  stone  fire-place,  in  the  mining  cabin;  and, 
while  the  long  winter  rain  poured  down  the  hills  and 
roared  through  the  canons,  they  would  whistle  and 
sing  at  times  improvisations,  which,  if  written  and 
heralded,  might  have  made  fame  for  the  author. 
And  if  one  had  gone  to  the  improvisatore, lifting  the 
slouched  hat  from  over  his  eyes,  they  would  have 
found  tears  that  welled  from  the  sad  source  of  his 
inspiration.  Yet  this  man  in  affrays  or  at  the  gam- 
ing tables  was  wild  and  fierce  as  a  Viking." 

"  The  ballad  and  the  chant,"  said  Miss  Alice,  "  are 
the  children  of  the  scald  and  the  rune.  The  hearth- 
stone and  the  family  circle  were  born  of  a  blazing  fire. 
The  most  pitiful  thing  in  the  Bible  is  the  conspicuous 
absence  of  the  fireside.  Blessed  be  the  wild  men  of 
the  North,  who  gave  us  the  scalds,  the  sagas,  and 
the  family  circle.  Look  at  poor  apostolic  Peter 
beneath  the  palace,  at  the  kitchen  fire  on  the  ground, 
among  the  servants,  warming  his  blood  to  fortify  his 
faith — it  sends  a  cold  chill  through  the  whole  plan  of 
salvation.  Everyone  knows  that  Christianity  had  no 
people's  music — for  the  psalms  and  songs  were  priest- 
ly— no  hymns,  no  chants,  no  conquering  measure  of 
martial  tramp,  till  it  met  the  fireside  men  of  the  fur- 
clad  North.  The  inspiration  of  our'  best  heart-music 
is  the  march  of  Valhalla  and  the  wail  of  Valkyrias 
— love  and  war." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech  Colonel 
lifted  up  his  voice  again  and  piously  asked: 


SAND.  83 

u  Miss  Winans,  what  is  that  style  of  conversation 
called?" 

44  That,  Colonel  Flolten,  is  a  faint  echo  of  what 
Western  barbarians  sacrilegiously  call  '  culchaw.'  r 

k-  It  sounds/'  said  Norman,  "  a  good  deal  like  what 
my  friend  Canutsen  t&\\%  folks  lehre" 

'•  Well,"  continued  Miss  Winaiis,  perhaps  a  little 
piqued  at  the  reception  of  her  outburst,  "  what  I 
wish  to  say  is:  that  civil  liberty,  civilization,  or 
Christianity,  is  upheld  by  the  family  circle,  and  I 
hold  that  there  can  be  no  permanent  family  circle 
without  a  fireside — and  the  fireside  comes  from  the 
wooded  north,  where  the  names  of  our  days  come 
from,  and  from  whence  came  many  good  things  long 
since  trampled  out  by  Roman  legions  and  priestly 
prejudice.  When  the  wild  miner  was  whistling  tear- 
ful improvisations  by  his  storm-rocked  ingleside  in 
the  mountains,  as  just  now  spoken  of  by  Colonel 
Holten,  he  was  voicing  the  brave,  sad  echoes  of  home 
—home  means  a  fireside,  and  a  fireside  means  the 
north." 

Norman  clapped  his  hands,  in  which  applause  he 
was  joined  by  the  company,  followed  by  a  late  but 
earnest  cry  of  "  Hear!  Hear!"  from  Miss  Judith. 

'•Is  there  not  a  flavor  of  infidelity  in  your  philos- 
ophy?" asked  the  pious  male  visitor,  of  Alice. 

"I  am  an  infidel  in  some  things;  but  I  think  the 
most  evil  infidelity  is  a  lack  of  faith  in  the  virtues  of 
one's  ancestors." 

u  "Rank  paganism,"  exclaimed  Colonel  Holten, 
striking  the  arm  of  his  chair. 


84  SAN  D. 

"  I  care  not  what  it  may  be  called ;  but  I  hold  that 
no  race  of  people  or  nation  can  abide  if  it  neglects 
its  ancestors.  Ancestral  love  is  the  staying  power  of 
a  people.  '  Honor  thy  father  and  mother,  that  thy 
days  may  be  long  in  the  land,'  is  a  command  bor- 
rowed from  the  most  ancient  of  days." 

"  It  is  the  Chinese  law,"  said  Colonel  Hoi  ten. 

"It  is  an  English  virtue,"  said  the  singing  lady 
visitor. 

"It  is  New  England  idolatry,"  said  some  other 
voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alice,  proudly;  "New  England  is  to- 
day a  monument  of  what  may  be  achieved  by  the 
worship  of  one's  ancestors." 

"So  is  China,"  said  Colonel  Hoi  ten. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Alice;  "I  ask  no  stronger  proof. 
If  there  is  any  staying  power  left  on  this  continent 
after  the  last  Yankee  shall  expire,  it  will  be  found 
to  speak  Chinese." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Winans,  such  doctrine  will  not  do  in 
iconoclastic  California,"  said  Hoi  ten. 

"  Oh,  Colonel  Hoi  ten,  how  can  you  say  so!  The 
process  of  ancestral  deification  is  going  forward  here 
with  great  vigor — greater  than  any  State  in  the  Union. 
The  gods  of  '49  and  the  spring  of  '50  are  climbing 
Olympus  with  a  grave  solemnity  beautiful  to  behold." 

Alice  paused,  and  Colonel  Holten  seeing  the  trap 
that  was  springing  upon  him,  leaned  his  head  back 
upon  his  chair,  threw  his  handkerchief  over  his  face, 
and  laughed  silently,  as  it  were  behind  the  curtain. 


SAND.  85 

u  Perhaps  the  old  sarcasm  about  the  best  part  of  a 
potato  plant  being  under  the  ground  was  intended  as 
a  foil  to  your  theory,"  said  Mrs.  Holten,  addressing 
Alice. 

"  I  have  no  theory,"  said  Alice.  "  It  is  an  old  story. 
There  is  history  and  Holy  Writ  for  it.  It  is  a  square 
fact.  The  individuality  of  the 'self-made' contends 
against  it  through  ignorance.  Power  is  bred  in  the 
bone.  A  great,  so  called,  ;  self-made  man'  does  not 
often  know  who  his  ancestors  are,  but  he  has  them,  all 
the  same.  Trace  such  a  man  back  far  enough,  and  it 
will  be  found  that  his  power  is  not  self-made,  but 
inherited  with  the  mould  of  his  form,  the  cast  of  his 
countenance,  and  all  the  marks  which  make  up  his 
individuality.  Accidents  are  exceptions,  proving  the 
rule;  but  accidents  are  not  perpetuated.  It  is  the 
rule  which  survives." 

*'  Darwinian  ism,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  from  behind 
his  handkerchief. 

"  I  got  it  from  Paul  of  Tarsus,  who  recognizes  the 
idea  in  his  description  of  the  Cretans,  where  he  says 
they  were  always  that  way.  I  got  it  also  from  the 
merciful  holy  wars  of  Joshua,  the  son  of  Nun,  when 
he  was  taught  by  the  Deity  not  to  try  to  convert,  but 
to  cut  off  the  inborn  unbelievers;  and  lastly  and 
mostly  from  the  biblically  God-given  instructions  to 
the  Jews,  through  which  they,  all  over  the  world,  are 
walking  proofs  of  the  indelibility  of  type.  A  strug- 
gling man  is  prompted  by  his  inward  inheritance  to 
the  firm  belief  that  there  is  power  in  him." 


86  S  A  N  D. 

At  this  remark  Colonel  Hoi  ten,  twirling  the  hand- 
kerchief off  his  face,  sat  upright  in  his  chair,  as  if 
bracing  himself  against  a  lurch  to  leeward. 

"Of  such  is  the  new  revelation,"  said  he;  "and  it 
sounds  reasonable;  but  I  would  ask  what  means  has 
a  man  born  in  the  darkness  of  Western  barbarism  of 
knowing  he  is  a 'joint  heir' unto  this  great  salva- 
tion?" 

"By  placing  the  fingers  of  his  strong  right  hand 
upon  the  pulse  in  his  left  wrist,  and  thus  taking  coun- 
sel of  his  heart.  If  the  revelation  is  not  in  his  blood, 
there  is  no  revelation  for  him.  All  inocculation  is 
poison." 

Colonel  Holten  immediately  felt  his  own  pulse, 
quoting  as  he  did  so: 

"And  our  hearts,  though  stout  and  brave, 

Still,  like  muffled  drums,  are  beating 
Funeral  marches  to  the  grave." 

"Good  poetry,"  said  Ali3e,  "but  not  truth.  The 
inarch  of  a  heart  to  the  grave  has  no  music  of  its  own. 
The  music  of  the  heart  never  goes  to  the  grave." 

"  Where  does  it  go?"  asked  Norman. 

"  Back  to  its  source;  and  if  that  source  be  in 
Northern  Europe  it  joins  the  heroic  chant  in  Valhalla; 
or  if  that  source  be  in  the  Flowery  Kingdom,  I  sup- 
pose it  goes  squeaking  and  buzzing  'down  the  cor- 
ridors of  Time'  to  an  antiquity  remote  beyond  all  the 
gods." 

"  When  our  farthest  ancestry  dwelt  in  the  bone 
caves " 


SAND.  87 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Colonel  Hoi  ten,  our  ancestry 
never  dwelt  in  caves." 

"  No?"  replied  Colonel  Holten,  with  good-humored 
interrogation. 

"It  is  a  base  slander  on  the  race.  The  Chinaman, 
the  Mongol,  the  Basque,  and  the  unwritten  lost  races 
of  narrow  heads,  to  whom  the  free  sweet  air  is  not  a 
necessity,  have  dwelt  in  caves  and  holes,  but  the  full- 
chested,  large-lunged  northern  people — never" 

•'  You  are  the  most  northerly  person  I  ever  knew," 
said  Colonel  Holten. 

u  Yet  you  hate  the  snow,"  said  Mrs.  Holten. 

"  That  is  my  weakness,  Mrs.  Holten;  but  I  love  the 
odorous  glory  of  the  stately  pines — the  long  arched 
gothic  silence  of  the  forest  in  the  hills — the  shapely 
strength,  the  altitude,  the  power,  the  individual  foot- 
hoJd  of  the  trees — the  grand  republic  of  the  grateful 
shade,  where  all  the  borrowed  essence  of  the  snow  in 
one  perpetual  unity  of  verdurous  life  resists  the  howl- 
ing onset  of  the  storms." 

"Eloquence!"  ejaculated  Colonel  Holten. 

Alice  seemed  impelled  by  some  unusual  motive — 
some  inner  excitement.  Her  action,  coupled  with 
the  drift  of  her  talk,  seemed  to  say:  "I  am  not  mus- 
cular like  a  Yenus,  nor  heir  to  great  wealth,  but  I 
have  some  power."  If  Norman  had  any  share  in 
exciting  her,  he  seemed  not  aware  of  it;  but  he  looked 
upon  her  with  admiration,  as  upon  a  blooded  "flyer" 
whose  speed  responds  to  every  time-piece  on  the 
course. 


88  SAND. 

"  "Well,"  said  a  gentleman  visitor,  rising  to  go, 
"man,  being  reasonable,  must  go  to  bed." 

"And  the  subject  under  discussion  will  do  to  sleep 
on,"  said  Colonel  Hoi  ten. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  say  it  would  do  better  for  that 
than  for  anything  else,"  said  Alice,  archly. 

"No,  it  is  a  tempting  subject;  but  I  think,  withal, 
I  prefer  song  to  argument;  and  if  you  will  sing  me 
a  good  little  song  I  will  go  straight  to  bed." 

"  With  all  my  heart.     What  shall  it  be?" 

"Anything  your  superior  taste  shall  select." 

She  made  a  little  face  at  him,  went  to  the  piano, 
and  sang,  "When  the  Swallows  Homeward  Fly" — 
which  was  a  popular  parlor  song  of  that  day. 

The  company  dispersed,  each  going  his  or  her  sev- 
eral way,  and  Norman  to  his  own  room  and  reflections. 
Taking  it  altogether,  he  thought  he  had  had  a  pleasant 
evening,  but  not  a  particularly  happy  time.  There 
seemed  to  be  rising  between  himself  and  Miss  Judith 
a  confusion  of  atmosphere  through  which  she  was  less 
distinct  to  his  inner  sight.  The  earnest  desire  he  felt 
to  serve  her  in  any  way  seemed  to  be  of  less  worth, 
because  she  did  not  appear  to  value  it.  He  could  not 
see  that  it  was  to  preserve  him  from  danger,  worry, 
and  expense  that  she  made  light  of  his  battle  in  the 
street.  He  assured  himself  that  he  should  act  in  the 
same  way  in  a  similar  case,  but  he  would  have  been 
more  comfortable  if  she  had  taken  a  serious  view  of 
the  matter  instead  of  laughing  at  him.  He  had  yet 
to  learn  that  the  first  thing  a  woman  does  with  a  man 


SAND.  89 

who  attracts  her,  and  is  by  her  attracted,  is  to  manage 
him;  and  that  such  managing  does  not  consist  of  ask- 
ing, denying,  commanding,  condemning,  or  rewarding, 
but  does  amount  to  getting  things  done,  or  not  done, 
as  the  case  may  be,  while  still  leaving  room  to  deny 
having  ever  had  anything  to  do  with  it. 

If  she  could  laugh  him  out  of  his  earnest  combative 
resolution,  very  good — nobody  can  prove  that  a  laugh 
has  any  particular  object.  Nobody  knows  what  a  laugh 
is  any  more  than  they  know  what  a  sneeze  is — except 
that  each  is  a  great  relief  in  its  proper  place.  This 
philosophy  of  laughter  and  sneezes  never  having 
entered  Norman's  head,  he  fell  asleep  in  his  bed, 
rather  congratulating  himself  that  in  a  short  time  he 
should  go  back  to  the  mountains  and  the  mountain 
people,  where  he  thought  there  was  less  law  and  more 
order. 

In  the  morning,  Norman  repaired  as  usual  to -the 
"'den,''  where  he  found  Colonel  Ilolten  hard  at  work, 
lie  made  little  disturbance  and  no  remark  as  he  came 
in,  and  sat  down  at  his  own  desk,  keeping  the  silence 
of  the  room  unbroken  save  by  the  noise  made  by 
moving  heavy  calf-bound  volumes  in  the  hands  of 
Colonel  Hoi  ten. 

By  and  by,  Hoi  ten,  without  raising  his  head  or 
looking  round,  said: 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Maydole." 

"Good-inoniirig,  sir." 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  presently." 

Then  there  was  more  silence,  after  which  Colonel 


90  SAND. 

Holten  turned  an  open  volume  face  clown  upon  the 
desk,  laid  his  glasses  on  the  back  of  the  book,  and 
whirled  face  about  in  his  chair. 

"Now,  Mr.  Maydole,"  said  he,  '•  we  will  talk  busi- 
ness. I  have  consulted  with  my  co-owners  in  the 
mining  property  I  spoke  to  you  of  some  days  ago,  and 
we  have  had  an  interview  and  agreement  with  repre- 
sentative parties  from  the  other  side — by  the  other 
side  you  will  understand  me  to  mean  those  owners 
who  hold  views  of  mine  management  with  which  we 
have  not  concurred.  We  are  about  equally  divided 
as  to  sides,  but  the  other  side  has  what  may  be  called 
possession.  Our  agreement  is  that  while  the  other 
side  shall  continue  their  man  in  charge  of  the  actual 
workings  of  the  mine,  our  man  shall  keep  the  books, 
and  act  as  auditor  of  all  accounts.  We,  on  our  part, 
agree  that  the  books  shall  be  correctly  kept,  and  be  at 
all  reasonable  times  open  to  investigation  by  the  other 
side  or  their  representative — and  they  agree  that  the 
working  of  and  for  the  mine  shall  be  done  in  a  work- 
manlike, honest,  and  economical  manner,  and  that  the 
work  and  workings  shall  be  at  all  reasonable  times 
open  to  investigation  by  us  or  our  representative.  Do 
you  understand  the  situation?" 

"  I  think  I  do." 

"  Well,  then,  my  co-owners  have  left  it  with  me  to 
choose  a  man  for  the  place.  Do  you  know  anything 
about  mining?" 

ik  Practically,  nothing,  but  by  observation,  some- 
what." 


SAND.  91 

44  Do  you  know  anything  about  the  disposition, 
peculiarities,  and  temper  of  miners?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

44  From  reading  Pacific  Slope  mining  stories?"  asked 
Colonel  Holten,  throwing  up  his  brows  in  interroga- 
tive wrinkles. 

"No;  I  have  been  down  into  the  mines  and  asso- 
ciated with  miners." 

44  Very  good — very  good.  That  is  better  than  read- 
ing the  bosh  and  bathos  of  our  long-torn  literature. 
I  only  ask  you  these  questions  for  the  purpose  of  get- 
ting a  foundation  on  which  to  say  to  you  that  your 
most  difficult  task  will  be  in  at  once  doing  your  duty 
to  us  (of  which  I  have  no  doubt)  and  avoiding,  as  far 
as  possible,  difficulties  in  contending  with  the  preju- 
dices of  the  resident  people.  I  will  not  withhold 
from  you  that  I  consider  it  a  delicate  and  responsible 
position — one  which  will  draw  upon  your  original 
resources  in  grasping  the  situation.  But  I  am,  with- 
out more  words,  going  to  place  you  there;  feeling 
satisfied,"  he  added,  good-humoredly,  44upon  Miss 
Alice  Winaif  s  theory,  that  your  ancestors  will  hover 
about  you,  and  see  you  through." 

44  Have  you  any  suggestion  to  make  as  to  my  action 
in  the  premises?" 

44  No,  sir.  Go  ahead — do  right — succeed  or  fail  on 
the  federation  of  your  own  faculties,  and,"  he  added, 
laughing,  a  the  blood  of  your  ancestors." 

"Thank  you." 

"  There  is  the  agreement  on  which  your  conduct  is 


92  SAND. 

to  be  based;  make  a  copy  of  it,  which  I  will  endorse 
as  to  its  correctness;  take  the  copy  with  you  when 
you  go.  Here  also  is  a  letter  directed  to  the  present 
incumbent,  who,  upon  its  presentation,  will  pass  all 
books,  papers,  or  accounts  whatever,  into  your  hands. 
Here  is  an  agreement  with  yourself  which  you  are  to 
read  and  sign,  if  the  consideration  for  your  services 
as  therein  written  is  satisfactory  to  you." 

Handing  the  papers  to  Norman,  Colonel  Holten 
wheeled  about  to  his  desk  and  went  to  work. 

Norman  read  first  the  agreement  he  was  to  sign, 
flushed  with  delight  at  the  amount  of  salary  named 
therein,  and  signed  the  paper.  Then  he  went  to 
work  to  study  carefully  the  other  agreement  and  copy 
the  same.  When  he  had  finished  he  made  some  rust- 
ling noise,  in  gathering  together  and  folding  up  his 
papers,  which  attracted  the  Colonel's  attention. 

"Well,"  said  that  person, still  busy  at  his  desk,  "is 
everything  satisfactory?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  hurry  you,  and  there  is  no 
imperative  call  <3n  you  for  a  few  days,  but  when  do 
you  desire  to  start?" 

"  As  soon  as  may  be,"  answered  Norman;  "  to- 
morrow, or  next  day;  but,  if  you  please,  there  is 
a  matter  I  would  like  to  talk  a  little  with  you 
about." 

"When?" 

"  Now,  if  you  can  spare  the  time." 

Holten  immediately  wheeled  about  from  his  desk, 


SAND.  93 

took  off   his  glasses,  whirled  them  around  between 
his  thumb  and  finger,  and  said: 

"Well,  sir, proceed." 

Then  Norman  told  him  of  his  row  and  his  arrest. 
In  the  beginning  of  which  recital,  he  stopped  whirl- 
ing his  glasses;  looked  steadily  at  Norman,  and 
rather  frowned;  but  as  Norman  proceeded  his  face 
cleared  up,  and  then  he  smiled,  and  finally  laughed 
outright,  and  asked: 

"  Where  is  that  damned  stage  driver?" 

Now,  as  Colonel  Hoi  ten  seldom  used  profanity,  his 
expression  may  be  taken  and  excused  as  a  tribute  of 
respect  to  Mr.  Talman  Reese. 

"  He  is  in  the  city  enjoying  himself,  and  expects 
to  appear  before  the  Police  Court  to-day  at  9  A.  M.,'' 
said  Norman. 

"That  must  not  be,"  said  Colonel  Holten;  "I'll 
fix  that." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  Yes,  I'll  fix  that"  Colonel  Holten  repeated,  em- 
phatically. 'c  I  cannot  say  that  I  do  not  admire  your 
conduct  in  this  case,  Mr.  Maydole.  In  fact,  if  I  had 
a  son,  I  should  feel  proud  to  have  him  manifest  the 
same  spirit;  but  there  is  a  delicacy,  as  you  will  see, 
in  all  conflicts  with  lawless  and  disreputable  persons 
where  the  conflict  is  liable  to  involve  any  mention  of 
reputable  ladies  in  our  Police  Court.  Nothing  but 
unavoidable  necessity  should  lead  to  such  a  state  of 
things — that  is  to  say,  unless  our  better  people  will 
join  hands  to  batter  out  this  disgrace  of  the  streets, 
by  following  your  example." 


94  SAN  1>. 

"  I  tliink  it  could  be  done,"  said  Norman,  firmly. 

"No  doubt.  But  San  Francisco  is  an  indulgent 
mother  to  her  erring  children/' 

"Well,  then,"  said  Norman,  "your  assurance  as  to 
the  matter  in  the  Police  Court  to-day  leaves  me  noth- 
ing more  to  attend  to,  except,"  and  here  he  drew 
twenty-five  dollars  from  his  pocket,  u  that  when  you 
go,  or  send,  to  the  Police  Court,  you  would  have  this 
given  to  the  proper  officer,  to  be  by  him  handed  to 
Mr.  Reese,  in  lieu  of  what  that  gentleman  has  left  on 
deposit  as  bail  money.  I  desire  this  done,  let  the 
will  of  the  court  be  what  it  may,  because  Mr.  Reese 
is  a  gallant  fellow — or,  as  lie  expresses  it,  he  has  the 
*  sand' — and  is  no  way  at  fault  for  my  indiscretion." 

"  I'll  attend  to  him,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  laugh- 
ing; "  put  your  money  in  your  pocket." 

"Thank  you;  but  pardon  me  when  I  suggest  that 
he  will  not  take  any  money  iinless  he  thinks  there  is 
a  full  acquittal." 

"  There  shall  be  no  acquittal  about  it.  There  shall 
be  a  discharge — a  general  quash.  If  there  is  a  mag- 
istrate in  this  State  who  will  hold  a  man  for  pugiliz- 
ing  hoodlums  who  insult  innocent  women,  I  would 
like  to  see  him,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  a  touch  of 
indignation  in  his  tone.  Colonel  Holten  then  looked 

O 

at  his  watch,  rose  to  his  feet,  and  added:  "I  must 
look  alive  to  be  down  town  in  time  to  explain  these 
things  in  arrest  of  further  proceedings  at  the  Police 
Office;  and  as  it  is  now  near  the  breakfast  hour,  I 
will  go  to  hurry  things  up  a  little.  If  you  think  of 


SAND. 

anything  that  you  need  to  have,  or  to  know,  which  I 
can  assist  you  to,  inform  me  of  it,"  and  he  passed 
out  into  the  hall. 

Among  other  things  said  at  breakfast,  Mrs.  Hoi  ten 
remarked : 

"  I  am  informed  that  yon  are  going  to  be  a  miner, 
Mr.  Maydole." 
••  Yes,  madam.'* 

•;  Do  yon  think  yon  will  like  it?" 
44  I  will  try  to  like  it." 

"  You  are  riot  going  down  into  the  mine  to  work?" 
said  Judith. 

i%  If  need  be,  Miss  llolten." 

k4  Surely,"  said  Alice,  ki  a  knight  will  go  where 
duty  calls." 

"  Yres,"  said  Colonel  llolten,  "  there  is  a  chivalry 
in  doing  well  the  work  which  comes  nearest  to  us  in 
this  life  not  thoroughly  appreciated,  I  fear,  by  the 
rising  generation." 

'•  Now,  Colonel  llolten,''  replied  Alice,  "  that  is  a 
sarcastic  remark." 

••  Xot  so  intended,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"  Thank  you.  On  reflection,  I  can  say  conscien- 
tiously, for  my  unit  of  interest  in  the  rising  genera- 
tion, that  I  have  an  honest  detestation  of  persons 
fairly  endowed  by  nature  who  are  helpless  through 
habit.  I  am  ill  of  that  gush  in  our  literature  which 
brings  the  young  husband  home  from  a  financial 
crash  to  a  lovely  wife,  who  goes  into  a  state  of  tearful 
dilapidation.  My  motto  is  '  Get  up  and  do.'  v 


96  SAND. 

"  '  Git  up  and  git '  is  the  vernacular  formula,"  said 
Colonel  Holten,  smiling. 

u  Yes,  'Git  up  and  git,'  "  echoed  Alice.  "  I  have 
read  the  Declaration  of  Independence  to  a  Fourth  of 
July  audience  in  my  native  town,  and,  in  preparing 
to  read  effectively,  I  studied  the  part,  and  I  arn  sure 
that  the  unalienable  rights,  '  life,  liberty,  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,'  do  not  include  the  right  to  be 
artificially  helpless." 

"  JSTor  thriftless,  in  New  England,"  added  the  Col- 
on  el. 

"  Nor  thriftless — thank  you.  Our  ancestors,  whom 
we  idolize,  taught  us  how  to  make  the  magic  elixir 
of  thrift,  and  we  hand  the  secret  down  from  father  to 
son — from  mother  to  daughter " 


a  t 


World  without  end.     Amen,'  "  said  Ilolten. 

"  Amen,"  repeated  Alice. 

Everybody  laughed  till  the  Colonel  said: 

u  Those  are  very  sensible  remarks,  Miss  "VVinans. 
I  commend  them  to  the  careful  consideration  of  all 
persons  present." 

"  When  it  comes  my  turn  to  do  for  thrift,  I  expect 
to  be  promptly  present  at  roll-call,"  said  Miss  Judith, 
quietly,  "but  there  is  too  much  asked  of  the  rising 
generation.  I  know  that  I  can  work  if  need  be — 
dear  knows  I  have  worked,  preparing  for  festivals 
and  the  like  as  industriously  as  any  one  can;  but  it 
is  not  fair  to  ask  people  to  be  absorbed  in  receiving, 
entertaining,  preparing  for,  and  visiting  other  people, 
and  at  the  same  time  expecting  them  to  be  laboring 


SAND.  97 

for  a  livelihood.     Society  is  pleasant  and  important, 
I  suppose,  but  it  means  work,  and  hard  work." 

"That  is  very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Holten. 

"  Yery  good — very  good!  I  want  no  one  to  work 
unless  they  see  the  need  of  it — but  it  is  better  to  look 
out  for  the  need  before  it  becomes  imperative,"  said 
Colonel  Holten. 

"  To  behold  it  like  the  home-coming  of  a  prodigal," 
said  Alice. 

"  How's  that?"  asked  Colonel  Holten. 

"  '  But  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father 
saw  him,'  "  Alice  quoted  from  St.  Luke. 

Norman  had  held  his  peace  through  the  meal-tirne, 
the  which  Colonel  Holten,  noticing,  asked  him:  -  *. 

"  What  are  the  ideas  of  work  in  your  part  of  the 
State?" 

"We  are  all  working  people  up  our  way.  We 
think,  in  our  house,  that  work  is  the  chief  end  of 
man — particularly  when  he  is  not  old.  I  would  not 
like  to  live  without  exertion — nor  to  exert  myself 
without  an  object." 

"  I  don't  like  to  work,"  said  the  youngest  daughter 
in  a  careless  drawl,  "and  I'm  not  going  to,  either." 

"  Ah,  Mary,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  shaking  his 
head  with  a  sort  of  good-humored  solemnity  at  his 
latest  offspring,  "  I'm  afraid  you're  a  black  sheep." 

"Well,  I'd  rawther  be  a  sheep  than  an  ox — sheep 
don't  work,  do  they?"  drawled  the  infant. 

u  No,  but  they  get  sheared,  and  turned   out  in  the 
cold  and  rain,"  said  Judith. 
7 


98  SAND. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  be  something  else,  if  I  can't  be 
myself,"  said  the  drawler. 

"  Yes,  yes,  child,  it  is  very  easy  to  get  to  the  place 
where  we  are  something  else;"  then  shoving  back 
his  chair  from  the  table,  he  added:  "Excuse  me,  I 
have  business.  I  must  go  to  work." 

u  After  Colonel  Hoi  ten  retired  there  was  a  lengthy 
sitting  at  the  table,  through  which  Norman  found  his 
approaching  change  of  location  discussed  in  various 
moods  and  tones,  all  ending  in  expressions  of  hope 
for  his  health,  happiness  and  welfare;  for  which  he 
expressed  himself  very  thankful,  and  then  at  last,  as 
they  were  about  to  rise  from  the  table,  Mrs.  Hoi  ten 
gave  him  a  huge  crumb  of  comfort  by  remarking: 

"  Mr.  Maydole,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  con- 
duct yesterday,  and  to  say  to  you  that  I  shall  always 
feel  grateful  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all,  madam,"  said  Norman,  fairly  caught 
blushing  as  he  cast  a  brief  look  upon  the  smiling 
young  ladies. 

"  We  are  all  under  obligations  to  you,  Mr.  May^ 
dole,"  said  Judith,  u  and  you  must  never  think  we 
do  not  appreciate  what  you  have  done." 

Alice  said  nothing  with  her  •mouth  as  they  arose 
from  the  table  and  went  their  ways. 

Upon  Colonel  Holten's  arrival  at  the  Police  Court, 
he  found  no  great  difficulty  in  satisfying  the  author- 
ities that  the  public  good  stood  in  no  need  of  further 
proceedings  in  the  cases  of  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  and 
Talman  Reese;  and  therefore  turned  his  attention  to 
the  return  of  the  bail  monev  to  Mr.  Reese. 


SAND.  99 

Never  having  seen  that  gentleman,  he  looked  about 
among  the  various  ill-assorted  persons  lounging  in 
attendance  on  the  court,  and,  following  the  verbal 
description  he  had  received  of  Mr  Reese's  style  and 
appearance,  he  approached  an  individual  bearing  a 
strong  resemblance  to  that  description.  This  indi- 
vidual was  sitting  on  the  iron  railing  surrounding  a 
sunken  area,  with  his  heels  hooked  in  the  iron  sup- 
ports, and  he  was  carefully  whittling  a  very  small, 
short  stick  with  a  big  pocket-knife,  while  he  con- 
versed in  low  undertones  with  a  smaller  man,  a  dif- 
ferently bound  second  edition  of  himself,  though  no 
way  related  by  blood,  who  sat  beside  him  on  the  rail- 
ing. Colonel  Holten  approached  the  whittler,  and 
.said: 

u  This  is  Mr.  Reese,  I  presume." 

"  Curly  "  jumped  down  off  the  railing,  threw  away 
the  remains  of  his  little  stick,  snapped  his  big  knife 
shut  with  one  hand,  while  he  brushed  off  the  little 
chips  with  the  other,  and  answered: 

u  Yes,  sir.  That's  my  name  as  fer  as  heered 
from." 

"  Is  there  any  doubt  about  it?" 

"  Reckon  not.  The  returns  is  all  in  an'  everything 
swore  to." 

u  Well,  come  with  me,  if  you  please,"  said  Colonel 
Ilolten,  suppressing  his  impulse  to  laugh. 

u  Hoi'  on  a  minnit,  Bill,"  "Curly"  remarked,  as 
he  followed  the  Colonel,  and,  as  they  walked  along 
toward  the  clerk's  office,  the  Colonel  said: 


100  SAND. 

'  "  You  deposited  some  money  last  evening  for  your 
appearance  here  to-day." 

"  Yes,  sir.". 

"  I  want  to  see  it  returned  to  you." 

" "What  fer?" 

"  Because  it  belongs  to  you,  and  there  is  no  charge 
against  you." 

"  Well,  but  I  know  ther'  is,  Jedge,  for  I  see  the 
feller  put  it  on  the  book." 

"  It  is  quashed." 

"  "Who  squashed  it?" 

"The  proper  authorities  are  satisfied  with  your 
conduct  in  the  matter,  and  there  is  no  more  about  it." 

"Ner  about  Mr.  Maydole?" 

"Nor  about  Mr.  Maydole — all  fixed." 

"Well,  them  proper  'thorities  has  more  sense  'n  I 
thought  they  had,"  said  "  Curly,"  as  they  appeared 
before  the  clerk.  That  officer,  in  the  presence  of  Col- 
onel Plolten,  gravely  handed  to  Mr.  Reese  the  sum 
of  twenty  five  dollars. 

"This  don't  let  me  off  on  t'other  one,  too,  does  it?" 
asked  "  Curly "  of  the  clerk. 

"  No,  sir;  the  other  one  holds." 

"What  other  one?"  asked  Colonel  Holten. 

"  Another  battery,"  answered  the  clerk. 

"  How  is  this?"  asked  the  Colonel,  as  he  and 
"Curly"  stepped  away  from  the  desk.  "What  did 
you  do  to  get  yourself  on  the  book  again?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  Jedge,  yisteday — er  last  night — 
when  I  left  Mr.  Maydole,  I  tuk  the  street  keers  fer  to 


SAND.  101 

go  out  on  Mission  to  see  Bill — that's  him  out  there 
cm  the  paliri's — an'  as  I  was  settin'  in  the  keer,  an  ole 
lady  come  in  ther' — ole  enough  to  be  my  mother — 
an'  I  got  up  to  give  her  a  seat,  an'  afore  I  could  git 
her  to  see  it,  a  fancy  duck  'at  was  standin'  ther'  a 
holdin'  onto  the  brake-line,  he  mashed  himself  right 
down  into  that  seat,  an'  I  pasted  him  one  over  the 
blinkers  fer  his  p'liteness.  That's  what  I  done, 
Jedge." 

u  They  arrested  you  for  that  alone?" 

"  Yes,  Jedge,  that's  all  I  done;  on'y  the  fancy  fel- 
ler rn'yaowed  an'  yauled  an'  pranced  'round  so  'at  he. 
raised  a  rumpus  an'  set  me  a  cussin',  an'  they  'rested 
fer  that,  I  reckon,  much's  anything." 

"  Have  you  made  any  arrangements  for  your  de- 
fense r 

"  Oh,  Bill,  he's  fixed  it!  He  sabes,  you  bet  you! 
Been  ther'  himself." 

"  Ah!  Then  you  are  all  right.  "But  I  should  think 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  avoid  these  scrapes." 

"How  kin  I  avoid  'em?  I  ain't  going  to  be 
tromped  on,  ef  it  is  in  San  Francisco!" 

"Well,  but  you  had  no  need  to  use  profanity." 

u  I  hadn't?  Now,  look  yer,  Jedge,  I  hain't  never 
been  converted  yit." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  try  conversion." 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right,  Jedge!  I  comedown  yer  to 
hev  a  little  fun  with  the  boys,  an'  I'm  hevin'  it  bully. 
When  I  git  through,  I'm  goin'  to  jine  the  dapple- 
gray  Young  Men's  Christian  'Sociation,  and  quit 


102  SAND. 

cussin'.  Bill  says  a  feller  can  hev  almost  any  kind 
of  fun  in  this  town  as  long's  lie  don't  cuss  or  say  bad 
words." 

"Good-day,  Mr.  Reese." 

"  Good-day,  Jedge." 

When  the  Colonel  had  gone,  "  Curly  "  returned  to 
his  friend  Bill,  whereupon  that  friend  asked: 

"  D'ye  know  who  you  been  talkin'  to?" 

"The  Jedge,  I  reckon." 

"The  Judge!"  exclaimed  Bill,  grinning;  why, 
you're  greerier'n  mouldy  brass  on  a  mounted  harness. 
That  man  don't  look  no  more  like  old  Louder  than  1 
look  like  Broderick's  monument." 

"  Well,  he  made  the  clerk  gimme  back  my  scads." 

"No  he  didn't,  neither." 

"Well,  what  in  he " 

"See  yer,"  Bill  suddenly  interrupted,  "didn't  I 
tell  you  to  stop  that  cussin'?" 

" did  he  do?"  said  "Curly,"  finishing  his  broken 

sentence. 

"  Why,  he  used  his  in/?0i0eiice,  that's  all,  an'  he's 
got  lots  of  it." 

"  Well,  who  is  he?" 

"Who  is  he?  Why,  he's  one  of  the  nobs.  He's 
Colonel  Hoi  ten,  that's  who  he  is;  and  if  you  had  his 
little  pile  of  equivalence,  you'd  be  the  biggest  fool 
since  Coal  Oil  Tommy." 

"  Well,  I  be " 

"  No  you  won't  neither." 

"  Well,  then,  you  may." 


SAND.  103 

"  I  tell  ye,  you've  got  to  stop  it.  But  Pd  like  to 
know  what  nobs  has  got  to  do  with  you?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Maydole  I  reckon's  workin'  t'other 
eend  of  the  line,  an'  the  nob's  one  o'  his  big-up  'soci- 
ates.  I  tell  ye,  Bill,  that's  the  whitest  boy  on  the 
coast — 'taint  no  use  talkin',  he's  mighty  heavy  papers. 
Ef  ye  hear  me." 

At  this  point,  a  seedy  legal  looking  person  ap- 
proached Bill,  and  made  a  few  remarks  to  that 
worthy,  which  caused  him  to  say: 

'•Come  on,  'Curly,'  an'  get  your  brake-blocks 
leathered,  and  learn  to  go  slow  down  a  new  grade." 

With  these  somewhat  relevant  and  original  obser- 
vations the  trio  entered  the  court  room  to  await  the 
calling  of  the  battery  case  against  Talman  Reese. 
But  as  this  form  of  investigation  is  familiar  to  the 
readers  of  the  daily  and  weekly  newspapers,  no  de- 
scription of  it  is  necessary  here,  and  no  more  notice 
of  it  need  be  taken  in  this  case  further  than  to  give 
some  of  Mr.  Reese's  remarks  when  called  upon  to 
make  a  brief  statement  of  his  position  before  the 
court.  When  asked  to  explain  his  actions  in  the 
street-car,  he  arose,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and 
placed  that  hand  on  his  hip,  so  that  the  hat  hung 
down  by  his  side,  suspended  by  the  edge  of  the  wide 
brim  between  his  fingers,  and  with  the  other  hand 
stroking  his  chin-whiskers,  he  remarked  as  follows: 

"  Well,  yer  honor,"  he  said — having  picked  up 
that  form  of  address  when  he  was  witness  in  the  case 
entitled  "  The  State  of  California  vs.  James  Clem  " — 


104:  SAND. 

"  the  way  of  it  was  this:  I'd  paid  ten  cents  for  a  seat  in 
that  keer,  an'  I  was  goin'  to  give  my  seat  to  an  ole  lady, 
but  that  fancy  gent  over  ther',  'at?s  been  a  witnessin' 
agin  me,  he  tuck  the  seat  afore  I  could  git  the  ole 
lady  down  into  it;  an'  I  tuck  him,  jist  as  he  says,  a 
friendly  tap  on  the  eye-brow,  to  call  his  attention  to 
the  fac'  'at  he  wasn't  keepin'  to  the  right,  as  the  law 
directs." 

"  Perhaps  he  thought  you  were  about  to  depart, 
when  you  arose,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  No,  I  reckon  not,  yer  honor,  becoz  he  see  me 
reachin'  for  the  ole  lady  afore  I  got  up,  an'  the  keer 
wasn't  stoppin'  nowher'." 

"  Well,  sir,  is  it  your  rule  to  take  the  law  into  your 
own  hands  and  knock  people  into  obedience?" 

"  Now,  see  yur,  yer  honor,"  said  "  Curly,"  after 
some  pause;  during  which  he  derived  inspiration  from 
the  golden  horse-shoe  on  his  watch-chain,  "  that  ther' 
needs  a  little  explainin'.  I'm  a  silk-popper,  you 
know." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  What  is  a  silk- 
popper?" 

"A  man  'at  pops  the  silk  over  a  stage-team — it's  a 
tetchnickel  term — the  same  as  mule-skinner  for  a 
mule-teamster,  or  as  bull-puncher  fer  a  man  'at  steers 
oxen." 

"Ah,  yes!  Well,  go  on,  sir,  and  avoid  a  free  use 
of  technical  terms  henceforth." 

"  Well,  as  I  was  goin'  to  say,  when  I'm  out  on  the 
road,  an'  takin'  up  way-passengers,  it's  my  business 


SAND.  105 

to  see  'em  all  seated  accordiii'  as  they  come,  in  reg'lar 
order,  unless  some's  a  mind  to  swap  seats  to  make  it 
comfortable  all  round;  but  once  in  awhile  I  get  hold 
of  a  gill-marten  'at  wants  to  play  wild  hog  on  us,  as 
that  fancy  witness  wanted  to  play  it  on  me  an'  the  ole 
lady  in  the  keer,  an'  that  kind  of  a  feller  I  generally 
set  down  so  'at  he  stays  sot  where  I  put  him;  an'  I 
reckon  I  must  a  forgot  myself  an'  thought  I  was  boss 
o'  the  job.  But  I'd  a  punched  him  all  the  same,  yer 
honor,  ef  he'd  been  my  own  brother." 

The  court  smiled  and  asked:  "  Is  that  all?" 

u  Yes,  yer  honor,  I  s'pose  that's  about  all  the  light 
I  can  throw  upon  this  yer  case,  only  I'd  like  a  time- 
keard  of  the  rules  of  the  road,  an'  I'd  like  the  keard 
to  pint  out  my  duty  when  a  feller  takes  my  seat,"  and 
he  sat  down. 

"  The  evidence  shows  that  you  have  committed  a 
battery — your  own  statement  admits  it;  but  there  are 
mitigating  circumstances  in  the  case  under  which  I 
find  it  my  duty  to  impose  upon  you  the  lightest  pen- 
alty of  the  law;  hereafter,  in  a  like  state  of  affairs, 
you  will  appeal  to  the  conductor  or  other  person  in 
charge  of  the  street-car  you  may  at  the  time  be  rid- 
ing in. 

u  All  right,  yer  honor,"  said  "  Curly,"  half  rising 
to  his  feet  and  sitting  down  again  as  he  spoke. 

u Curly"  paid  his  fine,  settled  with  the  seedy  legal 
light,  and  then  he  and  Bill  good-naturedly  left  the 
building  in  search  of  more  "fun  with  the  boys;"  but 
one  is  left  to  doubt  if  "  Curly 's  "  brake-blocks  had 


106  HAND. 

received  a  leathering  sufficient  to  alter  his t pace  down 
a  new  grade. 

During  the  day,  Norman  Maydoie,  Jr.,  occupied 
his  time  in  making  careful  and  minute  preparation 
for  his  change  of  place  and  occupation.  Like  most 
long-handed  people,  he  was  methodical,  though  not 
finical, in  all  his  affairs,  so  that  by  late  dinner-time 
he  had  fixed  his  small  belongings  in  such  thorough 
order,  that,  had  his  departure  been  into  eternity  in- 
stead of  into  "  the  mines,"  the  administrator  on  his 
aifairs  would  have  found  no  trouble  in  rendering  a 
final  account. 

At  the  dinner-table  he  found  Miss  Winans  and 
the  family  all  present,  save  Miss  Judith,  who  was 
absent  in  attendance  at  some  neighborly  festivities. 

He  announced  his  readiness  to  depart  early  on  the 
morrow. 

"So  suddenly?"  said  Mrs.  Ilolten,  lifting  her  brows. 

"Why  not  remain  till  after  the  Fourth?"  asked 
Miss  Winans. 

"Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Maydole,  do!"  exclaimed  the  elder 
of  the  younger  girls.  "  There  is  going  to  be  a  grand 
parade  and  speeches  and  readings  and  songs,  and  ever 
so  many  bands  of  music,  and — and — everything." 

u  It  is  only  a  few  days  until  the  national  holiday, 
Mr.  Maydole — perhaps  you  had  better  stay,"  said 
Colonel  Holten,  in  his  quietest  way,  looking  at  Nor- 
man as  he  spoke. 

u  No,"  said  Norman,  "  I  am  not  much  of  a  holiday 
person  at  best,  and  just  now  'my  heart  is  in  the  high- 
lands.' " 


SAND.  107 

"  There  are  only  two  holidays  in  the  republic  worth 
keeping,  and  they  should  be  kept  religiously,"  said 
Miss  Alice. 

"  Which  are  they?"  asked  Colonel  Holten,  with  the 
quizzical  fatherliness  he  often  assumed  when  address- 
ing Miss  Winans. 

"Thanksgiving  and  the  Fourth  of  July." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Colonel,  "and  Yankeedoodle- 
dum  comes  first." 

"The  order  is  strictly  chronological,  sir.  Thanks- 
giving came  first  in  our  history,  and  then  the  Fourth 
of  July.  The  first  ma}r  be  called  our  feast  of  fat 
things,  and  the  latter  our  festival  of  roses." 

"And  Washington's  birth-day  you  overlook  alto- 
gether," said  the  Colonel. 

"  It  is  not  properly  American  to  celebrate  the  birth 
of  any  one  man.  To  do  so,  even  with  Washington's 
grand  serenity  to  sanctify  it,  is  to  retrograde  from 
'the  course  of  human  events'  toward  anthropomorph- 
ism." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Alice,  what  a  big  word!"  exclaimed  the 
youngest  Holten. 

"I  think  Christmas  is  our  nicest  and  kindest  holi- 
day," said  Mrs.  Holten. 

"Christmas  is  the  holiday  of  motherhood;  but  it 
does  not  belong  to  this  era.  This  is  the  age  of  l  prove 
it,'  and  Christmas  pertains  to  the  epoch  of  miracle 
and  much  belief.  It  is  full  of  sweetness  and  child- 
hood; but,  alas!  it  is  itself  in  its  second  childhood." 

"And  New  Year's  Day?"  asked  Norman. 


108  SAND. 

"A  barbarous  and  drunken  holiday,  borrowed  of 
the  sun-worshipers.  When  the  sun  approached  the 
shortest  day  in  the  year,  our  ancestors,  who  always 
reveled  in  the  baltn  of  the  open  air,  used  to  think 
he  might  die  out  altogether,  so  when,  by  what  is  now 
our  new  year,  it  was  perceptible  that  the  sun  was 
coming  back,  there  was  great  rejoicing.  New  Year's 
Day  is  a  sort  of  hallelujah  of  that  ignorance  which 
preceded  the  circumnavigation  of  the  earth  and  New- 
ton's discovery  of  the  laws  of  gravitation,  and  the 
moral  of  it  all  is  that  you  stay  and  celebrate  the 
day  which  deifies  the  moral  courage  of  our  intelli- 
gent ancestors.  You  should,  indeed,  Mr.  Maydole. 
It  is  the  worthiest  day  in  the  calendar  of  saints." 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  stay  and  see  a  great 
city  rejoicing;  but  the  flags,  wherever  I  may  go  on 
our  vast  domain,  will  keep  the  old  memories  illumin- 
ated." 

"Ah!  what  a  wonderful  blaze  of  glory  that  flag 
does  send  across  this  wide  continent  on  the  great  day, 
to  be  sure!"  said  the  Colonel. 

"Isn't  it  most  splendid?  Everywhere,  up  and 
down  and  across  all  the  wide  lands  and  waters  of  this 
vast  republic,  like  the  bloom  of  the  orchards,  there 
springs  into  the  bright  sunshine  one  all-pervasive 
blossoming  of  red,  white,  and  blue.  There  is  no  pic- 
ture like  it  or  equal  to  it,  in  poem,  prose,  or  pigment. 
Caesar's  royal  purpling  of  the  Roman  hills  was  but  a 

daub  on  Time's  canvas  in  comparison "  Here 

she  broke  off  from  the  theme,  and  asked: 


SAND.  109 

"At  what  hour  do  you  start,  Mr.  May  dole?" 

"  I  am  to  be  at  the  ferry-boat  at  four  A.  M." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  see  you  again  before  you  depart, 
as  I  am  on  the  card  for  a  night  out;  but  I  hope  you 
may  wrest  fame  arid  fortune  from  the  rock-ribbed 
hills,  and  return  to  your  friends  a  victorious  veteran 
in  the  battle  of  life." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Winans.  There  is  nerve  and 
power  in  earnest  well-wishing." 

"In  a  woman's  well  wishing,"  said  Colonel  Holten. 

l'Of  course,"  said  Alice,  "who  else  is  there  to  do 
the  well-wishing?  Men  take  an  interest  in  each 
other,  but  women  wish  well  where  they  have  no 
interest." 

"Also  ill,  sometimes,"  said  the  Colonel,  in  a  teazing 
manner. 

"Ill  or  well,  a  woman's  wish  is  a  vital  matter,  and 
so  recognized  by  the  traditions  of  all  peoples,  from 
Eden  to "  ' 

"  Milpitas,"  ejaculated  the  Colonel. 

"Where  is  Milpitas?"  asked  Alice. 

"Where  is  Eden?"  asked  the  Coloneu 

"  Eden  is  the  place  where  Investigation  found 
Knowledge;  where  Knowledge  begot  Doubt;  where 
Doubt  married  Inquiry,  from  whom  are  the  great 
families  of  Industry  and  Thrift — the  nobility  of  civil- 
ization. Now,  where's  Milpitas?" 
.  "  Well.  I  think  after  that,  Milpitas  is  nowhere," 
said  the  Colonel,  laughing. 

k*  It  is  a  nice  little  village  in  Santa  Clara  County," 
g:ii<?  Mrs.  Holten. 


110  SAND. 

"Well,  I  am  truly  glad  it  is  not  Saint  Milpitas. 
This  is  the  most  saricti»iied  country  I  ever  saw.  I  am 
in  a  state  of  geographical  confusion  half  the  time 
with  Sans  and  Santas." 

"  You  must  write  to  us  and  let  us  know  how  you 
prosper  in  your  new  field,"  said  Mrs.  Holten.  turning 
to  Norman. 

"  Certainly,  madam,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  write 
frequently." 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  I  do  not  mean  the  letters  you  may 
write  to  Mr.  Holten — of  course  you  will  write  to  him 
— I  mean  that  I  want  a  letter  now  and  then  for  us  all 
together,  if  you  have  time." 

•'  With  pleasure,  madam,  if  I  find  anything  to 
interest  you." 

Thus  the  dinner-hour  wore  away,  as  dinner-hours 
will  wear,  with  disjointed  chat,  until  the  family  was 
about  to  disperse,  when  Miss  Winans,  as  she  arose 
from  the  table,  approached  Norman,  offering  her  hand, 
which  he  took  in  his,  and  bade  him  a  final  farewell, 
leaving  the  dining-room  walking  by  his  side;  as  they 
passed  out  of  the  room  she  looked  into  his  face,  and 
asked : 

"  Have  you  said  farewell  to  Judith?" 

"  No,  I  have  not." 

"Don't  you  wish  to?" 

"Ido.'r 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  can,  unless  you  wait  up  till 
she  comes  home  at  a  late  hour." 

"I  will  wait," 


SAND.  Ill 

"  I  will  see  her  at  the  party — reception,  or  what- 
ever it  is — and  tell  her." 

"  I  will  remember  it  as  a  favor,"  he  said,  and  parted 
from  her  to  go  his  way. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  carrie  into  the  sitting-room 
to  bid  the  Colonel,  Mrs.  Hoi  ten,  and  the  "little- girls" 
good-bye,  after  which  he  inquired  of  them  if  he  should 
not  "  have  the  honor  of  a  parting  word  with  Miss 
Holten." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Mrs.  Holten.  "Your  depart- 
ure seems  to  come  so  suddenly  that  it  is  a  little  awk- 
ward; but  I  do  not  think  Judith  will  remain  away 
to-night,  and  if  you  will  wait  for  her,  you  can  meet 
her  in  the  parlor  when  she  comes." 

Norman  passed  the  evening  into  the  night  talking 
to  Mrs.  Holten,  till  the  "little  girls"  retired,  while 
Colonel  Holten  read  his  papers,  dropping  a  remark 
here  and  there,  until  "  tired  nature's  sweet  restorer" 
compelled  the  head  of  the  house  to  nod,  then  apolo- 
gize, then  disappear  with  a  final  "  Good-bye,  and  good 
luck  to  you.  Mavdole,  if  I  don't  see  you  in  the  morn- 
ingi" 

Then  Norman  and  Mrs.  Holten  had  a  cosy  chat 
until  she,  with  a  mother's  alertness,  hearing  the  muf- 
fled rumble  of  luxurious  wheels  and  the  after-slam, 
ining  of  the  door,  said: 

u  There  is  Judith,  now,"  and  went  out  of  the  sitting- 
room  to  meet  her  daughter.  When  she  presently 
returned,  she  said: 

"Judith  will  see  you  in  the  parlor,  Mr.  Maydole," 


112  SAND. 

and  escorted  him  thither,  where,  after  a  few  passing 
remarks,  she  left  him  under  the  gas-light  in  a  summer 
night. 

Judith  Ilolten  was  a  fine  figure  for  a  large  room, 
and  an  object  which,  when  dressed  with  care  and  taste, 
as  she  now  was,  could  not  be  dwarfed  or  out-shone  by 
the  art  of  the  wood-worker,  the  weaver,  the  house- 
furnisher,  or  the  painter.  Among  the  results  of 
handiwork  under  her  feet,  over  her  head,  on  the  walls, 
and  in  the  costly  furniture  all  about  her,  she  was  her- 
self the  greatest  handiwork. 

As  she  stood  before  him  with  the  lights  above  her 
(for  with  the  glamor  of  festive  excitement  still  upon 
her,  she  was  not  prone  to  sit  down),  she  crossed  her 
hands  behind  her  back,  and,  from  the  majesty  of  her 
stately  head  above  her  bared  shoulders,  looked  upon 
him,  asked  him  to  take  a  seat,  and  altogether  dazzled 
him  as  he  never  before  had  been  dazzled;  but  here, 
as  elsewhere  in  trying  situations,  he  had  "the  sand." 

"No,"  he  said,  "it  is  late.  -I  will  not  detain  you. 
I  shall  depart  in  the  morning  before  you  are  up 

"So  soon?"  she  interrupted.  "Then  I  insist  upon 
it  that  you  take  a  seat,  and  we  will  have  a  comfortable 
little  talk.  ISTow  be  seated — do.  I  want  to  quiet 
down  after  the  dissipation,  anyway,  and  I  have  not 
Alice  to  punish,  so  I  will  punish  you  a  little;"  then, 
as  he  took  a  seat,  she  occupied  a  great  square-topped 
chair,  though  she  did  not  sit  down  in  it,  hut  knelt  up- 
on the  cushioned  seat,  and,  leaning  against  the  back, 
talked  to  him  and  listened  to  his  talk. 


SAND.  113 

Now  Norman  Ma^dole,  Jr.,  however  much  lie  may 
have  felt  that  he  was  conquered  by  the  woman  before 
him,  did  not  manifest  it  in. his  conduct  or  conversa- 
tion; but  the  woman,  with  that  subtile  sense  for  which 
language  can  find  no  fitting  name,  found  means  to  see 
through  his  placid,  reserved  demeanor,  and  was  also 
inclined  to  enjoy  it,  so  far  as  it  could  be  enjoyed  with- 
out any  open  demonstration  on  either  side.  Adroitly 
she  led  him  on  in  conversation,  gazing  at  him  over 
the  fortification  of  the  chair-back,  and  listened  to  him 
while  he  gave  his  ideas  of  what  a  man  ought  to  be, 
and  try  to  be;  also  of  what  he  hoped  to  achieve  in 
life,  until  he  found  himself  talking  more  fully,  freely, 
and  egotistically  than  he  had  ever  done  to  any  person 
in  his  life-time.  Some  women  have  a  wonderful  tact 
of  causing  even  the  strongest  men  to  tell  all  they 
know.  Or  perhaps  it  is  not  tact  so  much  as  it  is  a 
sort  of  sweetness  of  atmosphere  surrounding  such 
women,  in  which  the  man  becomes  exhilarated  and 
reckless.  Judith  Hoi  ten  had  this  tact,  atmosphere, 
or  whatever  it  should  be  called,  in  large  measure. 
And  she  had  before  her  a  man  to  whom  such  exhilara- 
tion was  a  dangerous  stimulant,  for  he  was  a  man  in 
whom  action  was  a  predominant  spirit.  He  continued 
to  talk  while  she  led  and  listened  earnestly,  with  her 
cheek  upon  her  hand,  propping  her  leaning  head  upon 
the  back  of  the  chair.  At  last,  suddenly,  yet  softly, 
he  rose  to  his  feet,  looked  at  his  watch,  said,  u  It  is 
late,"  approached  her,  extended  his  hand,  arid  as  she 
took  it  in  one  of  hers,  still  leaning  her  cheek  upon 
8 


114  SAND. 

the  other,  he  bowed  his  head  gently  toward  her,  and 
said:  "Farewell,  God  bless  you,"  and  then,  as  from 
an  electric  battery,  she  felt,  rather  than  knew,  she  had 
been  kissed  upon  the  shoulder — almost  upon  the  neck. 

In  that  same  moment  all  was  silent — he  was  gone. 
The  gas-lights  whispered  to  each  other,  and  the  shad- 
ows smiled  and  frowned  among  the  pictures  on  the 
wall,  but  she  moved  not.  Had  catalepsy  fallen  upon 
her  she  could  not  have  been  struck  into  a  motionless 
statue  more  perfectly. 

But  the  shock,  though  profound  and  thorough,  did 
not  last  long,  for  presently  she  sprang  from  the  chair, 
her  face  burning  and  flushed,  her  eyes  flashing,  and 
all  her  grand  physique  quivering  with  excitement, 
and  rushed  to  the  closed  door  out  of  which  he  had 
passed,  opened  the  door,  looked  eagerly  and  angrily 
into  the  hall,  then  closing  the  door  she  strode  to  and 
fro  upon  the  deep,  rich  carpet,  with  the  soft  yet  rigid 
step  of  a  roused  tigress,  muttering  to  herself:  "  Out- 
rageous— insulting — cowardly!"  but  at  the  word  ucow- 
ardly"  she  stopped,  sat  down  in  the  great  chair,  put 
her  handkerchief  to  her  face,  put  her  hands  over  the 
handkerchief,  then  put  face,  handkerchief,  and  hands 
down  upon  her  knees,  and  in  this  attitude  remained 
for  some  minutes;  then  she  began  to  shake  with  emo- 
tion which  at  first  might  be  hysterical,  but  soon 
assumed  the  character  of  uncontrollable  and  contor- 
tionate  laughter,  during  which  she  resumed  a  sitting 
posture  in  the  big  chair,  and  still  laughing  and  wip- 
ing her  eyes,  she  said  to  herself: " 


SAND.  115 

"What  a  ridiculous  boy!"  Then  she  paused,  and 
added,  looking  about  the  large  room,  "How  awfully 
still  and  lonesome  everything  looks!"  She  paused 
again,  and  tried  to  look  down  at  the  place  on  her 
shoulder;  then  she  put  her  hand  softly  upon  it,  and 
looked  at  the  hand;  then  took  away  the  hand,  looked 
at  the  place  upon  her  hand  which  had  covered  the 
place  on  her  shoulder;  then  saying:  "I  am  an  idiot," 
turned  off  the  gas  and  retired  to  her  own  rooms. 

Next  morning,  at  the  earliest  dawning  of  a  long 
day  in  late  June,  Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  out  of  the 
side  door  of  Colonel  Holten's  den,  passed,  satchel  in 
hand,  into  the  summer  fog  of  the  streets  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, on  his  way  to  the  land  of  silver,  silence  and  sage 
brush.  At  an  upper  window  in  the  Holten  house,  he 
may,  or  may  not,  have  caught,  in  the  halo  of  light 
paling  in  the  dawning,  some  slight  glimpse  of  a  face 
following  his  footsteps;  but  he  made  no  sign  that  he 
was  aware  of  any  kind  of  light  shining  from  that 
window. 

Being  no  longer  under  the  spell  of  the  charmer,  he 
was  able  to  see  clearly  that  he  had  no  gentlemanly 
right  to  even  seem  to  abuse  the  hospitality  of  the 
roof  he  was  leaving,  so  he  strode  sturdily  away  into 
the  enveloping  folds  of  the  fog,  determined  to  achieve 
a  financial  standing  which  would  some  day,  perhaps, 
give  him  an  excuse  to  offer  an  explanation  of  his  con- 
duct of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

X 

The  western  slope  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  from  the 
seas  to  the  summits,  is  a  long  undulation  of  land, 
down  through  which  the  rains  and  snows  meander  to 
the  great  salt  waters  of  the  world,  winding  among 
green  woods  and  a  various  vegetation;  the  eastern 
slope  is  a  "jump-off"  into  the  corrugated  basin  of 
the  desert,  where  all  the  streams  are  swallowed  by  the 
earth,  and  from  whose  summit  the  east  ward -gazing 
grizzly  bear,  chained  by  the  sunbeam,  lifts  his  flexible 
nostrils  to  sniff  the  odor  of  the  arid  waste,  then  slowly 
turns  about  and  prowls  to  westward.  Two  worlds 
seem  here  to  meet;  vegetable  and  animal  life  have 
no  communion  across  the  line;  on  one  side  there  is 
abundant  rain,  snow,  fog,  and  moisture;  on  the  other 
side  are  wide  wastes  of  gray  pastures  in  the  drought, 
cold  and  dust. 

To  the  eastward  of  this  line,  in  a  quartz-mining 
camp,  where  the  object  is  precious  metal,  there  are  no 
gardens,  shade-trees,  lawns,  front  yards,  home  flowers, 
or  ornamental  enclosures  of  any  sort.  After  such  a 
camp  becomes  a  town  or  city,  with  a  far-fetched 
costly  supply  of  water,  the  green  and  growing  luxu- 
ries appear  in  tiny  garden-spots,  large  windows,  and 
trees  which  are  irrigated  at  the  roots  by  underground 
troughs  and  wooden  spouts — trees  which  are,  in 
fact,  brought  up  by  hand.  But  the  newer  town, 

116 


SAHD.  .  117 

which  is  still  a  mining  camp,  knows  nothing  of 
planted  greenness;  and  if  it  is  situated  in  the  great 
empire  of  Artemisia,  where  silver  and  gold  are  mar- 
ried in  the  volcanic  chambers  of  the  awful  past,  there 

.  is  no  spontaneous  greenness  fresher  than  a  random, 
bristling  nut-pine,  or  a  sprawling, arid  juniper.  The 

'  general  tone  of  the  whole  landscape  is  gray,  inclining 
to  drab;  and  yet  here  and  there  are  sporadic  hills 
breaking  out  from  the  general  coloring,  which  pre- 
sent tints  shading  and  blending  into  each  other  in  a 
way  so  delicate  that  no  painter  yet  dares  put  them  on 
canvas,  because  the  public  cannot  understand  what 
the  public  has  not  seen  the  like  of,  and  for  which  the 
public  can  find  no  nse. 

Nevertheless,  the  mining  region  is  a  country  of 
beautiful  natural  surprises.  Nowhere,  not  even  in 
the  vaunted  blowzy  flora  of  the  tropics,  does  Nature 
paint  with  a  touch  so  delicate  or  a  spirit  so  masterful. 
There  is,  so  to  speak,  a  charming  dramatic  stage 
effect  in  the  scenery  of  this  vast  land.  The  clear, 
dry,  dewless  air  oifers  no  screen  to  kill  the  shadows 
painted  by  the  sun,  the  moon,  or  the  stars.  Night 
or  day,  the  stray,  infrequent  cloud,  which  floats  before 
the  skyward  breeze  or  sleeps  lazily  along  the  blue, 
casts  its  counterpart  in  a  dark,  moving  shadow  upon 
the  gray  valley  or  among  the  pulseless  concourse  of 
the  hills.  The  thirsty  and  far-wandering  "pros- 
pector," seeking,  among  the  pyramids  of  granite, 
the  spires  of  porphyry,  the  slopes  of  slate,  the  castles 
of  lime,  the  columns  of  basalt,  for  one  sweet  spring 


118  SAND. 

of  living  water,  finds  instead  a  mountain  of  rock-salt, 
glittering  like  a  glass  dome  among  the  sterile  hills, 
to  tantalize  his  parching  tongue  and  mock  him  with 
a  majesty  of  art  he  has  neither  the  time  nor  the 
patience  to  enjoy. 

Tinder  foot,  the  world  is  dry,  gray,  silent.  Over- 
head, during  the  long,  cloudless  day,  it  is  pale-blue, 
dry,  silent.  All  abroad,  it  is  gray,  or  dark  with 
mountain  distance,  and  it  is  silent.  Silence  is  every- 
where. No  tide  of  restless  seas  rolls  throbbing  to 
the  shore -lines  on  the  rocks — the  seas  are  dead  and 
gone.  ISTo  roar  of  far-off  torrent  tumbling  down  the 
hills  to  jar  the  night  air  underneath  the  stars — the 
stars  still  are,  but  all  the  torrents  have  departed.  In 
this  land  the  valleys  have  been  seas,  the  canons  have 
been  torrent-beds,  the  slopes  have  been  the  dwelling 
place  of  men  who  dealt  with  fire,  stone-headed  arrows, 
earthen  pots,  and  shell-wrought  vanities;  but  at  some 
lost  period,  backward  of  all  dates,  the  Great  High 
Sheriff  of  the  universe,  in  open  court,  has  cried 
"  SILENCE!"  and  has  been  obeyed. 

Across  the  gray  valleys,  under  these  silent  shadows, 
and  among  these  curious  hills,  winds  the  long,  drab- 
colored  ribbon  of  the  wagon  road  on  its  way  to  the 
town.  It,  too,  is  silent,  save  far  forward  in  the  dusty 
distance,  where  the  ox-team  in  a  piebald  picture  an- 
swers with  straining  necks  the  profane  shout  that 
urges  it  along;  or  far  backward,  where  the  lines  of 
lengthy  ears  mark  time  to  mulish  feet,  to  crepitating 
leather,  and  to  clanking  chains,  and  all  that  makes  a 


SAND.  119 

mule-team  musical  to  the  ears  of  the  silent  man  who 
sits  upon  his  laboring  beast,  jogging  from  left  to 
right,  from  right  to  left,  the  whole  day  long;  or 
between  these  teams,  or  before  or  behind  them,  the 
croaking  big  black  raven  may  strut  and  croak  in 
answer  to  some  far-off  wolf  upon  a  low  hill,  howl- 
ing at  the  plain.  All  else  is  silent.  No  house  along 
the  way.  No  baying  watch-dog  sitting  at  a  gate. 
No  children  home  bound,  book  in  hand,  from  school. 
No  crowing  cocks,  no  lowing  herds,  no  bleating  lambs 
—  no  anything,  but  silence,  and  the  shadow  and  the 


Through  such  a  land,  on  such  a  road,  young  Mr. 
Maydole  made  his  way  to  the  treeless,  sunburnt  min- 
ing town.  He  found  it  in  one  of  those  deserted  tor- 
rent-beds which  the  American  man  of  the  Occident 
calls  a  canon.  Two  feeble  lines  of  houses,  with  a 
stony  street  between  ;  two  rocky  lines  of  ragged  hills, 
from  whose  rough  faces,  like  numerous  pug-noses, 
jutted  the  half  built,  dug-out  miners'  cabins,  arid  one 
large,  noisy  building  in  the  town,  from  whose  high 
chimneys  came  clouds  of  smoke  and  puffs  of  steam. 
When,  the  two-horse  spring  wagon,  which  the  pro- 
prietor thereoff  called  a  stage,  pulled  up  in  front  of 
the  office  building  pertaining  to  the  larger  structure, 
our  hero  alighted,  unheralded,  unattended,  unac- 
quainted, and  un  welcomed.  His  few  personal  effects 
were  rapidly  piled  out  after  him  upon  the  stoop  of 
the  office,  and  the  stage  drove  away,  leaving  him  an 
entire  stranger  "  in  the  cold  world." 


120  SAND. 

With  his  usual  directness  of  purpose,  he  presented 
himself  to  the  person  behind  the  desk,  and,  finding 
that  person  to  he  the  party  to  whom  his  credentials  were 
addressed,  lie  immediately  served  the  same  upon  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Maydoie,  and  if  it 
suits  you  as  well  to  get  in  here  as  it  dees  me  to  get 
out,  we  are  both  happy." 

To  this  remark  Norman  simply  bowed  politely,  and 
then  said: 

"  If  you  will  be  good  enough  to  show  me  over  the 
place,  and  introduce  me  to  the  foreman,  and  such 
other  persons  as  I  may  have  most  business  with,  I 
shall  be  glad  at  any  time  to  return  the  favor,  if  in  my 
power  to  do  so." 

"Certainly,  certainly!  Blethers  is  down  in  the 
mine  at  present,  but  I  will  introduce  you  to  the  amal- 
gamator, the  store-keeper,  the  post-master,  and — arid 
— the  boys  generally." 

"  And  the  matter  of  lodgings "  Norman   was 

beginning  to  say. 

"You  take  iny  room  I  suppose;  right  here  in  the 
office  building."  Here  he  opened  the  door  leading  to 
an  adjoining  room,  and  while  exhibiting  it  to  Nor- 
man, he  added:  "  It  is  not  very  fine,  but  it  is  as 
good  as  any  in  camp." 

"  Good  enough,"  said  Norman. 

"Well,  it  is  good  enough  room,  but  it  should  he 
fixed  up — should  have  been  done  long  ago— but  I 
don't  get  on  very  well  with  Blethers,  arid  have  not 
expected  to  remain  here,  or  I  should  have  had  it  in 
better  fix." 


SAND.  121 

"Mr.  Blethers  is  the  foreman,  is  lie  not?" 

"  Well,  yes.  He  is  foreman,  superintendent,  and 
everything  else'  in  authority,  except  book-keeper," 
and  the  retiring  clerk  looked  upon  Norman's  modest 
young  face  in  a  way  which  said  plainer  than  any 
words:  "I  pity  yon,  my  boy." 

"If  it  is  not  disagreeable  to  you,  I  would  like  to 
have  you  tell  me,  briefly,  in  what  style  Mr.  Blethers 
wields  his  authority." 

"  In  this  way,  among  other  things.  He  runs  the 
camp  about  as  he  pleases.  Pie  has  a  lot  of  men  here, 
some  of  whom — the  most  of  them,  in  fact — will  do 
just  what  he  says;  and  the  few  men  who  differ  with 
him  find  it  to  their  best  interest  to  keep  mum.  If 
you  keep  books  and  make  out  accounts  to  suit  him, 
you're  all  right — if  you  don't,  you're  all  wrong. 
That's  about  the  size  of  it!"  and  the  clerk  peered  into 
Norman's  eyes  to  see  how  he  took  a  statement  so 
alarming;  but  Norman  looked  as  innocent  as  a  lamb, 
and  gave  no  further  evidence  of  alarm  than  to  ask  if 
he  could  put  his  small  amount  of  luggage  into  the 
clerk's  room. 

"•"Why,  of  course,"  answered  the  clerk.  "  Go  right 
in  and  take  possession.  The  whole  thing  belongs  to 
the  company,  except  a  few  tricks  I  have  in  there,  and 
I'll  give  you  most  of  them  if  you  will  receive  them. 
I'll  get  right  out  of  your  way." 

u  No,  no,"  said  Norman,  "  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  get 
you  out — take  your  leisure.  I  will  find  a  room  in  the 
town  somewhere  for  a  time." 


122  SAND. 

"  I  see  you  don't  understand  this  country.  About 
the  only  way  to  get  a  good,  clean,  quiet  sleeping  apart- 
ment in  this  camp  is  to  build  one  and  furnish  it.  You 
may  get  a  bed  in  a  lodging-house,  divided  from  other 
beds  by  cheap  muslin  and  paper  partitions,  next  door 
to  a  disorderly  drunk  on  one  side  of  you,  and  a  husky 
bull-whacker,  who  snores  worse  than  a  fog-horn,  on 
the  other  side — but  I'd  advise  you  not  to." 

" i  What  can  not  be  cured  must  be  endured.'  " 

"  Well,  if  I  were  boss  of  the  ranch  any  more  I  would 
propose  that  you  sleep  with  me;  but  you  have  just 
let  me  out,  you  see." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  But  I  beg  you  to  continue  to  boss  the 
ranch,  in  that  regard,  as  long  as  you  desire." 

"In  that  case,"  answered  the  clerk,  smiling,  " we 
are  all  right.  I  take  pleasure  in  offering  you  half  my 
bed,  Mr.  Maydole — and  that  is  the  highest  point  of 
hospitality  reached  among  business  men  in  these 
mountains;  the  sports  and  bar-keepers  have  been 
known  to  go  further,  but,  then,  they  have  manners 
peculiar  to  themselves." 

Norman  put  his  personal  belongings  into  the  room, 
and  then  the  clerk  proceeded  to  show  him  about  the 
place  and  introduce  him  to  the  men — or,  as  they  are 
commonly  called,  "the  boys."  After  seeing  the  mill 
and  the  town  he  asked  about  the  mine,  and  the  clerk 
answered: 

"  The  mine  is  further  up  the  canon.  I've  never 
been  there  but  once.  Blethers  runs  that  to  suit  him- 
self. I  have  no  authority  for  going  down  into  it,  and 


SAND. 

no  taste  for  going  under-ground  if  I  had  the  authority. 
You'll  have  to  get  Blethers  to  take  you  round,  and  if 
he  don't  invite  you  down  into  the  mine  I  guess  you'll 
not  go  down." 

"No?"  responded  Norman,  interrogatively. 

Just  here,  as  they  passed  along  in  the  middle  of  the 
dry,  hard  street,  they  met  a  stalwart,  broad-shouldered 
man,  with  his  hands  rammed  half-way  down  under 
the  waistband  of  his  pantaloons,  and  arms  akimbo, 
walking  heavily,  yet  jauntily,  down  the  canon.  To 
this  rather  lofty  personage  the  clerk  said: 

"  Mr.  Blethers,  Mr.  Maydole — the  new  clerk." 

Mr.  Blethers  took  his  heavy  right  hand  out  of  his 
waistband  and  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Maydole,  saying 
he  was  glad  to  meet  him,  and  then  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  come  in  and  "take  a  drink." 

"  No,  thank  you" — Mr.  Maydole  did  not  drink. 

"  Well,  come  and  take  a  smoke,  then." 

"Much  obliged" — Mr.  Maydole  very  seldom  smoked. 

"Well,  then,  come  and  see  me  take  a  drink,"  said 
Mr.  Blethers,  with  a  laugh  that  seemed  to  say  he  was 
doing  a  very  humorous  thing. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Norman,  "  I  will  go  in  and  see 
how  you  do  it  in  this  part  of  the  country." 

"Are  you  a  temperance  man?"  asked  Blethers,  as 
they  entered  the  saloon. 

"  If  you  spell  with  a  big  T,  I  am  not." 

"I'm  not  much  on  the  spell.  Do  you  belong  to 
the  Templars  or  the  Sons?" 

"  No,  I  do  not." 


124  SAND. 

-"  Well,  then,  take  a  drink,"  he  said,  as  they  ap- 
proached the  bar  where  the  glasses  were  being  set  up. 

•"  No,"  said  .Norman,  "  I  never  drink  unless  I  abso- 
lutely need  it." 

Blethers  then  called  upon  the  few  loungers  in  the 
house  to  come  up,  which  they  promptly  did,  and  all, 
except  Norman,  swallowed  their  drains — leaving  him, 
in  the  eyes  of  that  particular  crowd,  a  rather  con- 
temptible minority.  Then  Blethers,  the  clerk,  arid 
Norman  adjourned  across  the  street  to  the  office. 
Here  Blethers  drew  from  his  breast-pocket  certain 
papers,  which  he  threw  upon  the  desk  in  a  grand  sort 
of  way,  telling  the  clerk  what  record  to  make  of  them, 
after  which  he  turned  to  Norman  and  catechised  him 
regarding  his  knowledge  of  mines  and  mining,  arid 
this  catechising  eliciting  nothing  very  satisfactory  to 
him,  he  said: 

"  I  knowed  there  was  a  new  man  a-coming,  but  I 
reckoned  you  knowed  something  about  the  business. 
I  don't  see  what  in  hell  the  company  means  by  chang- 
ing clerks  on  me  so  often." 

"  There  need  be  no  anxiety  about  that  in  this  case, 
I  think,"  said  Norman,  in  his  quietest  manner;  "I'll 
keep  the  books  straight  enough." 

Blethers  looked  at  him  in  his  lofty  way  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  I'll  see  about  that,"  and  then  he 
went  out. 

Norrnan  got  on  very  well  with  the  clerk.  In  fact, 
lie  soon  began  to  like  that  person,  and  that  person 
became  rapidly  attached  to  him,  and  aided  him  in 


SAND.  125 

every  way  he  could  to  an  understanding  of  the  posi- 
tion and  the  people.  They  were  thrown  together  day 
and  night  for  several  days,  and  Norman  had  thereby 
a  better  opportunity  than  he  had  expected  to  find  out 
how  matters  stood  in  the  town,  and  who  was  who. 

"Blethers  is  going  to  put  things  up  on  you  in  this 
camp,"  said  the  clerk,  in  one  of  the  many  talks  he 
had  with  Norman. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so?" 

"  I  know  he  is  by  the  looks  of  him.  He  began  on 
it  the  other  day  when  he  asked  you  to  drink — you 
didn't — then  he  called  up  the  stove-herders.  That's 
his  game.  He  wants  to  throw  the  boys  against  you 
on  the  start." 

"The  chances  can  not  all  be  good  in  one  direction. 
I  will  take  mine  on  some  other  tack — that  is,  if  I 
have  need  to  take  any  chances." 

"Well,  I'm  soon  going  to  leave  you  to  your  fate. 
I've  passed  over  everything  in  the  office,  arid  have 
told  you  all  I  know.  Now  I'm  going  out  to  fire  the 
old  loads  out  of  my  uistol  and  get  it  ready  for  the 
road." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Norman,  "my  own  pistol 
needs  blowing  out  and  reloading,"  and  he  passed  into 
the  bed-room;  then,  quickly  returning,  he  and  the 
clerk  walked  a  few  steps  up  the  canon  beyond  the 
houses,  chalked  a  white  target-mark  upon  a  cliff  of 
rocks,  and  prepared  to  fire  at  it. 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  the  clerk. 

"After  you,"  said  Nonnari. 


126  SAND. 

While  the  clerk  was  firing,  there  came  Blethers  and 
two  of  the  men  on  their  way  up  to  the  mine,  and  as 
pistol-practice,  at  the  animate  or  inanimate  target,  is 
an  interesting  theme  in  the  mountains,  they  paused 
to  see  the  shooting. 

The  clerk  was  not  a  bad  shot,  as  shooters  commonly 
go.  When  he  had  emptied  his  revolver,  and  all  had 
examined  his  hits,  he  re-chalked  the  target  and  said: 

"  Now,  Mr.  Maydole." 

Norman  took  his  position  with  his  pistol  in  his 
hip-pocket.  He  stood  there  for  a  moment;  then, 
drawing  and  commencing  to  fire  in  the  same  instant, 
he  flattened  rapidly,  one  after  the  other,  the  six  balls 
against  the  chalked  rock,  and  left  the  leaden  imprint 
of  all  of  them  inside  of  a  space  which  could  be  cov- 
ered by  a  silver  dollar. 

The  shooting  being  done  with,  Norman  and  the 
clerk  turned  away  toward  the  office,  while  Blethers 
and  the  men  with  him  proceeded  up  the  cafion. 

"That  young  feller  is  a  shooter  from  base,"  said 
the  taller  of  the  workmen,  aiming  his  remark  at 
Blethers. 

"  TJmph!"  grunted  Blethers,  "shootin'-gallery  frills. 
NotluV  in  it!" 

"Aye!"  said  the  other  man,  with  a  broad,  English 
accent,  "it's  no'  his  shootin'  as  I  wonders  at — nobbut 
t'  woiy  ee  pulls  t'pistol  fro'  his  britchis  pocket  be'ind. 
It's  wot  yo'  Americans  calls  t'  'draw,'  be'nt  it?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  taller  workman,  "  if  he  can 
draw  and  shoot  that  way  when  he  means  business, 


SAND.  127 

he's  got  the  drop  on  a  big  majority  of  all  the  shooters 
ever  I  saw." 

uHo!"  said  Blethers,  as  the  three  trudged  along, 
crunching  over  the  loose  stones  in  the  road.  "Fancy 
practice!  Nothin'  in  it!  Nothin'  in  it!"  But  his 
companions,  though  they  dropped  the  subject,  did  not 
show  by  their  looks  that  they  agreed  with  hitn,  as  they 
passed  out  of  sight  around  a  bend  in  the  canon  road. 

"  That  was  a  good  job,"  said  the  clerk  to  Norman, 
as  they  two,  on  their  return  from  the  target,  entered 
the  office. 

"  Yes,"  responded  Norman,  "its  always  best  to  keep 
a  pistol  fresh  and  clean." 

u  I  don't  mean  the  cleaning  of  the  pistols — I  mean 
your  shooting." 

"  Oh,  I  am  an  old  hand  at  target-practice,"  said 
Norman,  in  his  easy,  pleasant  way. 

"  I  should  say  you  were;  but  that  is  not  the  point 
I'm  driving  at." 

"  Is  it  not?     Then  I  do  not  catch  your  meaning." 

u  My  meaning  is,"  said  the  clerk,  with  a  gratified 
sparkle  in  his  eyes,  "that  old  bully  Blethers  got  a  bug 
in  his  wool.  He  claims  to  be  a  fighting  chief,  and 
can  draw  quicker  and  shoot  deader  than  any  man  in 
the  mountains;  but  you've  laid  over  him,  and  he 
won't  forget  it." 

"  Well,  yes.  If  a  pistol  is  a  good  one,  in  good 
order,  and  well  loaded,  in  a  close  fight  most  any  kind 
of  shooting  will  do — it  is  the  nerve  and  the  draw 
which  win." 


128  SAND. 

"All  right!  You  keep  your  eye  on  Blethers,  be- 
cause that  little  shooting  will  be  all  over  this  camp 
before  morning,  and  Blethers  won't  like  that  a  bit. 
Those  two  men  who  were  with  him  don't  like  him. 
He  don't  like  them.  But  they  are  A  No.  1  miners, 
and  handy  anyhow  or  anywhere,  in  a  mine  or  about 
it.  No  mine  can  get  along  without  such  men.  They 
are  never  drunk,  never  off,  and  they  don't  talk  out- 
side. I  know  them.  They  understand  things.  They 
will  soon  understand  you,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  and  it 
won't  do  you  any  harm  to  let  them  know  you  are  on 
the  square  with  them.''' 

"  It'  they  can  not  find  out  by  my  general  conduct, 
I  do  not  see  how  else  I  should  get  them  to  know  it." 

''That's  all  right.  I'm  not  asking  you  to  blow 
your  own  horn,  but  just  to  give  the  boys  a  point  now 
and  then.  People  sometimes  don't  see  without  a  hint 
or  two." 

"  What  do  you  call  these  men?" 

"The  tall  one's  an  American— Irish-American — 
Charley  Fitzgibbon;  went  into  the  war  at  seventeen 
years  old,  in  the  first  call  for  "  three-months'-men," 
and  never  left  the  service  a  day  until  he  was  honor- 
ably discharged  after  the  fall  of  Richmond.  The 
other  is  'Cnssin'  Jack,'  a  west-country  Englishman 
— gold  miner  from  Georgia — who  fought  under  the 
stars  and  bars  all  over  the  South.  They  live  together, 
sleep  together,  work  together,  and  I  think  would  die 
together — sort  of  social  Siamese  Twins." 

u  "Why  is  the  Briton  called  '  Cussin' Jack' — is  he  so 
profane?" 


SAND.  129 

u  No-o,"  said  the  clerk,  laughing;  "  that  is  miners' 
hiiinor.  He  never  was  known  to  use  a  profane  word. 
He  is  a  sort  of  Cornish- Puritan  preacher,  if  you  know 
what  that  is.  Originally  he  was  ;  Cousin  Jack,'  but 
the  miners  have  twisted  it  to  suit  themselves.  On 
the  books  it  is  John  Cadwal." 

During  the  time  of  these  conversations — and  of 
many  others  which  took  place  in  the  office  between 
the  same  parties — day  and  night  the  mighty  measured 
tread  of  the  ore-stamps  in  the  mill  adjacent  kept  up 
its  constant  roar,  making  the  atoms  of  gravel  creep 
and  nestle  among  the  larger  stones  which  lay  about 
the  staring  white  board-on-end  building  in  which  the 
office  was.  To  a  stranger's  ear  this  ceaseless  rhythmic 
roar  in  the  otherwise  silent  land  becomes  at  first  a 
sort  of  grand,  loud,  yet  muffled  harmony;  then  a 
painful,  thundering  discord  ;  still  later  a  bearable 
monotony;  and.  finally,  the  agreeable  pulsating  music 
of  prosperit}^.  So  agreeable  does  this  music  become 
that  its  cessation  is  an  alarm;  and  when  it  dies  out 
altogether,  and  the  long  rows  of  great  iron  stamps 
are  "  hung  up"  to  rust  between  the  massive  posts 
which  hold  them,  five  in  a  place  from  post  to  post, 
the  "  camp  "  takes  up  its  line  of  march  in  a  "go-as- 
you-please  "  stampede  to  richer  realms;  and  then  a 
silence  falls  into  the  canon  more  dreary  and  oppres- 
sive than  that  which  existed  before  man  disturbed 
the  "  ancient,  solitary  reign"  of  the  speechless  spirit 
of  the  desert.  There  is  no  picture  more  suggestive 
of  desolation,  more  full  of  enforced  silence,  than  a 
9 


1  30  SAN  D. 

rusting,  idle  quartz-mill  among  the  sterile  hills  of  the 
silver  land.  The  battle-field  where  daring  Industry 
has  been  forced  by  the  shadowy,  gliding  giant  of 
Want  to  lay  down  his  arms  and  march  empty- 
handed  away,  is  a  sad  appeal  to  the  truly  artistic — 
more  pathetic  than  half  the  battle-grounds  of  con- 
tending empires. 

But  as  long  as  the  roar  of  the  stamps  reverberates 
along  the  rock-walled  canon  the  reader  need  not  ap- 
prehend any  increase  of  desolation  about  the  office 
where  young  Mr.  Maydole  is  now  fully  installed— 
being  left  to  his  fate  by  his  genial  predecessor. 
Steadily  and  politely,  under  the  jarring  music  of  the 
now  to  him  unnoticed  stamps,  he  attends  promptly  to 
his  business.  The  men  come  on  the  monthly  pay-day 
to  find  their  accounts  in  exact  order,  and  the  checks 
for  the  money  due  to  them  ready  for  delivery.  One 
by  one  they  sign  the  pay-rolls,  each  opposite  to  his 
name,  date  of  payment,  and  amount.  Some  sign  with 
a  heavy,  wavering,  horny-handed  signature;  others 
ask  the  new  clerk  to  sign  for  them,  while  they,  like  the 
barons  of  old,  add  the  chivalric  sign  of  the  cross;  now 
and  again  one  wields  his  pen  with  a  rapid  and  easy 
grace,  arid  leaves  behind  him  an  autograph  ances- 
trally known  in  science,  commerce  and  letters.  As 
they  sign  their  names  each  takes  his  check,  glances 
it  over,  tucks  it  away  in  his  pocket, and  walks  heavily 
out.  The  great  stamps  go  on  and  on,  roaring  and 
jarring.  The  men  are  paid  up  for  the  month.  They 
have  gone,  and  left  the  clerk  to  his  books,  his  spider- 


SAND.  131 

like  solitude,  and  the  long,  rolling  monotone  of  the 
mill. 

Day  after  day,  often  into  the  night,  the  new  clerk, 
amid  the  continual  noise,  pursues  his  silent  task. 
Now  and  again  he  locks  his  office  doors,  passes  into 
the  mill  and  around  among  its  bewildering  move- 
ments, asking  questions  of  and  speaking  to  the  men 
concerning  their  various  employments.  At  first  they 
answer  him  coldly,  even  morosely;  then,  by  and  by, 
more  cheerfully;  and  after  a  time  more  or  less  cor- 
dially. Little  at  a  time  he  picks  up  the  meaning  of 
things,  till  gradually  there  awakes  within  him  the 
latent  mechanical  lore  of  his  race;  then,  like  a  vision, 
the  whole  business  dawns  upon  him.  Every  wheel 
and  crank,  journal  and  boxing,  pulley  and  belt^cog- 
wheel  and  lever,  tub,  settler,  battery,  engine,  furnace 
and  retort,  becomes  his  intimate  friend.  He  knows 
them  all.  Outside  the  mill  he  knows  each  driver 
and  each  mule  by  name — the  capacity  and  present 
condition  of  every  wagon.  Nothing  of  the  business 
is  unknown  to  him  save  the  cause  of  it  all — the  deep, 
dark  delvings  of  the  mine — over  which,  thus  far, 
Blethers  is  king.  . 

Several  times  our  hero  has  gone  to  the  mouth  of 
the  mine,  inside  of  the  building  called  the  hoisting 
works,  and  has  watched  the  hoisting  machinery  bring- 
ing up  refuse  rock  and  precious  ore — watched  the 
coming  up  and  going  down  of  the  men  as  they 
changed  the  gangs,  or  shifts;  but  at  no  time  has  he 
asked  to  bo  taken  down  i:i*r>  the  mine,  or  in  ,inv  v/av 


132  SAND. 

seemed  to  manifest  any  undue  curiosity  as  to  what 
might  be  going  on  below  the  earth's  surface.  Thus 
months  passed  away.  He  began  to  be  looked  upon 
as  a  very  neat,  cleanly,  orderly,  harmless  young  fel- 
low, and  polite,  good  clerk.  The  men  looked  pleas- 
antly upon  him  on  the  pay-days  in  the  office,  and 
saluted  him  cheerily  whenever  he  met  them;  even 
Blethers  seemed  to  abate  some  of  his  loftiness  in  his 
presence. 

One  day,  shortly  after  the  latest  pay-day,  when  the 
weight  of  the  preceding  month's  business  was  well 
off  his  hands,  he  locked  his  office  doors  and  strolled 
leisurely  up  to  the  mine,  where  he  found  "Cussin* 
Jack"  out  of  doors,  engaged  in  hewing  heavy  tim- 
bers. He  sat  down  upon  the  newly  hewn  surface  of 
the  log,  and  fell  into  conversation  with  the  hewer: 

u  Be  yo'  getten'  to  feel  whoam-loike  up  'ere  i'  tk* 
moiiies?" 

"  Yes.     I  like  it  first-rate." 

"  Well!     T'  boys  be  comin'  to  loike  yo'  a  bit." 

"  Well,  I  like  the  boys." 

"  Yo'dew?" 

"  Yes." 

"Why  dost  tha  nivver  coam  out  an'  tak'  a  dram 
wi'  'em;  or  smoaka  poipe?" 

"  I  do  not  drink." 

"Nor  smoak?"  asked  Jack,  as  he  still  hewed  to  the 
black  line  he  had  struck  upon  the  log. 

%t  I  can  smoke,  but  I  do  not  fancy  tobacco." 

"  Tha'rt  a  rare  nn.  T'  boys  thinks  tha'rt  a  big 
stiff  an'  'igh-tony  i'  thy  ways." 


SAND.  133 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  stiff  and  high-tony.  I  work 
for  rny  wages  the  same  as  they  do — we  are  all  in  the 
same  boat." 

"  Well  zaid,  lad,  well  zaiJ,"  and  he  stopped  hew- 
ing, put  the  point  of  his  broad  axe  on  the  log,  and, 
crossing  his  arms,  leaned  upon  the  end  of  the  handle, 
while  he  put  one  foot  upon  the  timber,  and  asked: 
"  D'  yo'  waant  to  know  'ow  to  put  feither  i'  thy  cap 
wi'  t'  boys  i'  this  'ere  camp?" 

"Yes,"  said  Norman,"!  would  like  to  help  the  boys?" 

"4  Aye,  I  believe  tha;"  then  he  looked  all  about 
him,  dropped  his  axe  on  the  timber,  lifted  his  black 
leather  belt  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  hand 
fished  out  of  his  fob-pocket  his  last  month's  check, 
handed  it  to  Norman,  and,  resuming  his  axe,  went 
on  hewing. 

"  This  check  is  all  right,  is  it  not?"  said  Norman, 
when  he  had  it  unfolded. 

"There's  nowt  amiss  wi't'  check.  There  be'ent  no 
better  check  az  I  knows  on." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  then?" 

"Well,  if  yo'd  loike  to  gi'  yo'rsen  a  lift  wi'  t'boys, 
stop  pay  in'  checks  an'  gi'  us  t'  cash." 

"  Is  not  the  check  as  good  as  cash?" 

"  Naw,  it  be'erit;  not  'ere.  T'  store-keeiaper 
shaives  it,  ivverabody  shaives  it;  but  t'  store- 
keeaiper  wuss  than  aw.  Gi'  us  t'  cash,  lad,  gi'  us 
t'  cash.  I  be'ent  a  gossip  talker.  Go  thy  ways;  but 
doant  forgetten  as  I've  telled  tha  to  put  a  feither  i' 
thy  cap." 


134  SAND. 

"  I  will  remember  it,"  said  Norman,  handing  his 
check  back  to  him. 

"Go  thy  ways.  An'  tha  gettest  i'  trouble  i' the 
cash  bissens,  moind  I  tell  tha,  tha  hast  friends  i'  the 
house  o'  Pharaoh." 

Norman  bade  the  hewer  good-day,  strolled  about 
the  mine-mouth  and  ore-house  a  short  time,  and  then 
went  back  to  his  office,  where  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
patron,  from  which  the  following  is  an  extract: 

"  I  think  I  am  beginning  to  grasp  the  situation.  I  have  delayed 
any  examination  of  the  mine.  Have  not  yet  made  any  demand 
for  it,  because  I  have  wished  to  see  iny  way  in  broad  daylight 
first,  before  trying  the  darkness.  The  men  still  complain  that 
their  checks  are  shaved  unmercifully  by  all  to  whom  they  present 
them,  but  most  severely  by  the  store,  which  the  men  call  the  '  com- 
pany store.'  They  also  complain  that  they  are  called  upon,  when 
working  by  contract,  to  receipt  for  more  money  than  they  receive, 
etc.,  etc.  These  latter  matters  (which  I  will  report  more  at  large 
by  an  by)  cannot  now  be  affected  by  my  present  power ;  but  if  you 
will  enable  me  to  pay  the  men  in  cash— coin  or  gold-notes — alto, 
gether  in  cash,  or  half  cash  and  half  checks,  it  will  distribute  the 
wages  of  the  men  into  more  hands,  make  the  men  feel  more  inde- 
pendent, and  therefore  slightly  weaken  the  hold  which  the  present 
management  has  upon  the  people." 

The  letter  had  its  effect.  When  the  men  came  in 
to  sign  the  pay-rolls  of  the  succeeding  month,  they 
took  their  half  cash  with  pleasant  chaff  and  merry 
good  humor.  The  outside  store-keeper  and  other 
dealers  did  a  better  paying  business  than  they  had 
done  for  a  long  time.  Even  the  gamblers  and  visit- 
ing priests  and  preachers  were  better  off.  All  the 
outgo  was  no  longer  re-absorbed  by  the  mine  man- 
agement and  the  pet  barnacles  attached  thereto.  The 


SAND.  135 

men's  checks  were  not  now  shaved  to  the  bone.  Grad- 
ually the  wink  passed  from  man  to  man,  as  they 
privately  gave  the  new  clerk  credit  for  the  improved 
financial  condition. 

The  new  clerk  attended  to  all  his  business  promptly 
and  pleasantly.  He  treated  the  lofty  Blethers  with 
perfect  respect.  He  also  attended  thoroughly  to  any 
reasonable  demands  made  upon  him  by  Blethers'  pets 
—the  store  keeper,  the  keeper  of  the  boarding-house, 
the  saloon  man,  the  lodging-house  person,  and  in  fact 
all  the  pets  who  love  to  cluster  about  the  manage- 
ment of  a  working  mine.  Notwithstanding  his  fair- 
ness, his  civility,  his  attention  to  these  persons,  they 
were  not  happy;  they  did  not  like  him,  yet  they  could 
find  no  stable  ground  on  which  to  assault  his  position. 

Before  the  next  pay-day  drew  nigh  he  wrote,  in  his 
regular  monthly  letter  to  Colonel  Holten,  as  follows: 

14  The  half-cash  idea  works  well.  The  men  are  pleased  with  it. 
If  you  can  make  it  all  cash  it  will  be  still  better.  I  am  aware  of 
the  expense  and  risk  in  sending  large  sums  of  money,  but  I  fully 
believe  that  it  is  better  to  do  so,  even  if  we  should  be  robbed  twice 
per  year.  As  affairs  now  stand  you  virtually  lose  the  money  any- 
way. But  I  do  not  admit  that  we  shall  be  robbed.  If  you  express 
the  money  (after  notifying  me  in  the  manner  I  have  pointed  out) 
as  far  as  the  express  box  comes,  I  think  I  can  see  it  safe  the  re- 
mainder  of  the  way." 

This  letter  was  also  effectual.  On  pay-day  the  men 
were  entirely  satisfied.  The  trade  was  distributed 
throughout  the  camp,  and  that  satisfied  a  majority  of 
the  people — but  the  Blethers  crowd  were  not  con- 
tented. 


136  SAND. 

On  a  pleasant  winter  sunny  Sunday,  after  pay-day, 
Norman  carefully  locked  up  his  office  and  betook 
himself  to  the  road  for  a  little  exercise  afoot.  In  his 
rambles  lie  met  many  of  the  men,  who  now  accosted 
him  with  very  kindly  cheer! ness  as  they  passed  to  or 
from  their  work — for  there  is  neither  night  nor  day, 
Sunday  nor  holiday,  on  a  working  mine.  As  he 
walked  on,  outside  the  village,  he  heard  heavy  steps 
at  some  distance  behind  him  and  gaining  on  his  gait, 
till  at  last  he  was  overtaken  by  two  workmen,  both 
large,  but  one  taller  than  the  other,  the  shorter  of 
whom,  as  he  overtook  Norman,  said: 

"  Gi'  us  thy  haarid,  lad.  Tha'st  getten  it  done,  an' 
the  feither  is  i'  thy  cap,"  and  he  shook  hands  heartily 
with  Norman.  "This  is  my  pardner,  Charley  Fitz- 
kibbin.  'E's  a  mu'n  as  it's  wuth  thy  whiles  to  know, 
lad,  tho'ff  I  zay  it  to  'is  faice." 

Norman  shook  hands  with  Fitzgibbon,  and  they 
three  went  forward  in  the  road  together. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  down  into  the  mine  and 
take  a  look  around?"  asked  Charley. 

"  I  have  not  yet  been  invited,"  said  Norman. 

"The  damned  hog!" 

"What!"  exclaimed  Norman,  sharply. 

"  I  don't  mean  you." 

"  'Ee  is  a  'og— is  Blethers." 

"The  boys  down  in  the  mine  will  be  glad  to  see 
you.  You  come  down  and  see  us  some  time.  We'll 
show  you  around,  and  let  you  see  some  things  you 
ought  to  know." 


SAND.  137 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  Norman,  "and  I  will 
be  glad  to  be  down  in  the  mine  as  soon  as  business  is 
so  arranged  that  I  can.  In  the  meantime,  if  I  have 
any  friends  down  there,  give  them  my  best  respects." 

"  You  bet  your  ribs  you've  got  friends  down  there," 
said  Charley,  with  an  emphatic  twist  of  his  head. 

"  'Ee  'ave  that;  an'  top  o'  t'ground  loikewoise." 

"How  is  the  mine  looking?"  asked  Norman. 

"It  looks  well  enough  for  the  way  it  is  treated; 
you'll  see  how  it  is  when  you  come  down." 

"  I  be'ent  no  woise  shy  o'  tellin'  wot  I  thinks  o'  t' 
moine  to  them  as  'ave  business  wi'  it.  Blethers  be 
'oggin'  on  it  for  a  freeze-hout.  That's  wot  t'  fact  is. 
I  knows  a  moine  as  well's  'ee  do.  This  'ere  be  a  good 
little  moine — in  honest  'ands." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  I  want  very  much  to  know  all 
about  the  mine,  and  to  thoroughly  understand  it;  and 
I  shall  feel  under  obligation  to  you  and  to  all  who 
assist  me  to  understand — not  that  I  can  hope  to  do 
more  than  to  express  the  obligation.  I  have  only  my 
wages,  as  you  all  have." 

"We  understand  that,"  said  Charley;  "arid  we 
know  that  things  is  happenin'  around  here." 

"Aye!"  added  Jack,  "  things  do  'appen  'raand  'ere." 
And  then  both  the  men  turned  away  into  a  branch 
road,  laughing  and  shaking  their  broad  shoulders  as 
they  went;  leaving  Norman  to  pursue  his  walk  and 
return  to  his  starting  point,  where  the  noise  of  the 
mill  furnished  him  with  music,  while  it  reminded  him 
constantly  of  the  unfinished  task  he  had  in  hand.  He 


138  SAND. 

oegan  to  feel  that  he  was  not  alone  in  his  struggle  for 
"a  square  deal."  As  he  sat  on  that  Sunday  evening 
in  the  office,  reading  one  of  the  few  choice  books  he 
had  brought  with  him,  he  could  hear  the  men  in  the 
saloons  across  the  way,  singing  and  laughing  over 
their  beer,  but  he  could  not  hear  the  conversation  at 
one  of  the  tables  in  the  saloon,  where  he  was,  in  part 
at  least,  the  subject  under  discussion. 

"This  new  clerk  is  making  himself  damned  fresh 
around  here." 

"  I  dunnot  see  but  ?ee  keeps  hissen  to  hissen  weel's 
yo'  do." 

"Oh,  well,  Jack,  we  won't  fight  about  that;  only 
old  Blethers'  just  bilin'." 

"Let  un  bile.  'Twean't  hurt  un  to  bile.  It  daan't 
spile  bad  heggs  to  cook  un." 

"But  when  he  biles  over  he'll  just  kick  the  stuffin' 
all  out  o'  that  fancy  young  duck  from  'Frisco." 

"  Don't  you  fool  yerself  about  that  fancy  young 
duck  from  'Frisco.  Ben  Blethers  jist  better  let  that 
job  out  by  contract." 

This  latter  remark  was  made  by  a  Johnny  come 
lately  to  the  camp. 

"  Dost  tha'  know  t'  lad?" 

"  No,  I  hain't  no  acquaintance  with  him,  but  I 
know  who  he  is." 

"'Oois'ee?" 

"  He's  the  rooster  that  killed  *  Cocho  Pizan,'  and 
cleaned  out  the  stage-robbers." 

"Egosh!"  exclaimed  "Cussin'  Jack,"  striking  the 


SAND.  139 

underside  of  his  heavy  fist  upon  the  table.  "  I  smells 
a  raat.  Gi'  us  anoother  beer  aw  round.  Egosh !  I 
thowt  'ee  was  no  common  chap  fnst  toirne  I  zeed  un. 
When  woz  it  'ee  plugged  t'  staige- robber?" 

"  Last  spring,  some  time — May  or  June,  I  think." 

'*  Egosh!  I  read  un  in  nooze  paiper.  'Ee's  t'  b'v, 
is  'ee?" 

Here  the  beer  being  served  all  around  the  table. 
Jack  grasped  his  glass  mug  by  the  handle,  rapped  on 
the  board,  then  raising  the  foam-capped,  brown  liquor 
toward  his  lips,  said: 

"  'Ere's  to  the  lad  as  pays  t'  cash  to  a  workin'  man !" 
then,  having  swallowed  his  draught,  he  set  down  his 
half-emptied  mug  and  said: 

"  Summuns  getten  sense  at  the  'ead  o'  this  moinin" 
company." 

"  That's  all  right,  Jack,"  said  the  speaker  who  had 
opened  this  dialogue;  "but  that  won't  save  the  boy 
from  taking  a  devil  of  a  whalin'  when  Blethers  gets 
desperate.  He  may  be  a  good  man  of  his  size,  but 
Blethers  is  too  heavy  for  him." 

"  It  be'ent  big  uns  as  wins  aw  the  fights.  Them  as 
sent  un  'ere  knows  un.  'Ee  be'ent  combd  up  'ere  for 
nowt.  Yo'  talk  o'  kickin'  stuffin'  out  o'  un — I  tell 
tha  wot,  them  as  kicks  stuffin'  out  o'  yon  lad  has  get- 
ten  it  to  kick  out  o'  moar  than  'im.  Stuffin'  will  be 
cheap  i'  this  camp.  Them's  th'  soothin'  remarks  o' 
owd  John  Cadwal." 

Thus  and  thuswise  the  men  spent  their  Sunday 
evening,  and  many  another  evening,  while  the  great 


140  SAND. 

stamps  in  the  mill  thundered  and  roared,  and  the  clerk, 
mostly  alone  in  his  office,  day  and  night,  remained 
quietly  at  his  post, the  least  obtrusive  man  in  the  camp.' 

But  the  storm  was  gathering  about  him.  The  day 
drew  near  when  he  must  either  bow  to  others  or  have 
them  bow  to  him. 

During  one  day  of  the  week  following  the  drink- 
ing bout,  as  adove  related,  Blethers  came  across  from 
the  store  to  the  office  with  a  few  papers  in  his  hand, 
and,  walking  into  the  office,  where  Norman  sat  behind 
the  counter  at  his  desk,  he  tossed  the  papers  over  to 
the  desk,  saying: 

"  Contracts.  I  want  them  looked  over,  and  I  want 
you  to  draw  checks  for  the  amount  due  on  them,  arid 
ask  the  men  to  indorse  the  checks,  and  then  you  hold 
them  till  I  call  for  them.  Understamme?" 

"  Yes,  I  understand  you,"  said  Norman,  gently,  as 
he  took  up  the  papers.  Blethers  turned  on  his  heel 
and  went  out  of  the  office. 

"While  Norman  was  carefully  looking  over  the  con- 
tracts, the  second-cook  of  the  boarding-house — one 
Ah  Quong — came  softly  in  with  a  bucket  of  water,  a 
scrubbing-brush,  a  hatchet,  etc.,  and  proceeded  to 
take  out  the  sash  and  clean  the  windows,  as  he  had 
been  previously  directed  to  do  by  Norman. 

After  reading  the  contracts,  the  clerk  put  them  in 
the  drawer  of  his  desk,  then  said: 

u  Quong." 

"What!" 

"  Sabe  <  Long  Johnson'?" 

"  Yes — too  muchee." 


SAND. 

"  Go  tell  him  corne  see  me." 

"All  ligh',"  and  Quong  came  down  off  his  step- 
ladder  and  went  out.  Presently  the  Asiatic  returned, 
followed  by  a  lengthy,  lathy  Missourian. 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  said  the  clerk,  ''you  are  one  of  the 
parties  to  this  contract,  are  you  not?" 

Johnson,  standing  outside  the  counter,  took  the 
paper,  looked  it  over  hastily,  and  said: 

44  Yes,Woolsey  and  me  done  that  work,"  and  passed 
the  paper  back  to  the  clerk. 

"How  do  you  want  your  pay — cash  or  checks?" 

"Well,  I  don't  keer;  I  'spose  I  inout's  well  hev 
the  caish  ef  you've  got  it." 

"Suit  yourself." 

"  Caish  it  is,  then." 

"All  right;  go  and  bring Waolsey here,  and  we'll 
settle  up." 

The  Missourian  left  the  room,  the  Chinaman  washed 
at  the  window,  the  stamps  in  the  mill  rose  and  fell 
and  thundered,  the  Clerk  sat  at  his  desk  and  wrote, 
when  Blethers  re-entered,  and,  walking  up  to  the 
clerk's  counter,  asked: 

"Johnson  been  here?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What'nhell'd^want?" 

"  Wants  to  settle  up  arid  get  his  money  on  his  con- 
tracts." 

"What'dyou  tell  him?" 

"Told  him  to  bring  Wool sey,  and  I  would  settle 
with  them  and  pay  them  their  money." 


SAND. 


.1" 


'•  They've  got  their  money,  by  - 

"  Not  from  the  company,  I  think." 

"  I  tell  ye,  they've  got  their  money.  Understamme?" 

"  Yes,  I  understand  you  quite  well." 

"JWell,  then,  see't  ye  do  what  I  ordered.  Under- 
stamme?" 

Norman  made  no  reply  to  this  last  inquiry  about 
*'  understamme,"  but  went  on  figuring  at  his  books. 
Blethers  leaned  against  the  counter,  as  if  waiting  for 
a  reply,  but  he  got  none. 

''Are  you  going  to  get  me  them  checks?"  asked 
Blethers,  rather  fiercely. 

"  No,  sir,"  and  Norman  got  down  from  his  stool  at 
the  desk,  and,  coming  up  to  the  inside  of  the  counter 
opposite  to  Blethers,  he  added:  "  This  is  a  very  simple 
matter  of  business,  Mr.  Blethers.  Get  a  written 
order  from  the  contractors,  or,  failing  in  that,  serve 
me  with  a  writ  of  attachment  —  otherwise  I  shall  pay 
the  men  their  money.  I  am  not  here  to  act  as  general 
collector  of  other  people's  debts,  nor  am  I  a  constable." 

"  You're  -  —  sneakin'  ----  . 

Understamme?"  roared  Blethers. 

li  You  are  a  bully,  and  I  think  you  are  a  coward," 
said  Norman,  folding  his  arms  and  looking  in  the 
flushed  face  of  the  now  furious  Blethers.  He  did  not 
have  long  to  look.  Blethers  reached  across  the  counter 
fiercely,  aiming  to  catch  Norman  by  the  throat.  In 
his  eager  wrath  he  reached  a  little  too  far,  and  before 
he  could  recover  his  overreach,  he  had  cause  to  im- 
ngine  that  the  stamps  in  the  mill  next  door  were 


SAND.  143 

thundering  upon  his  jaws  and  ears.  In  the  next 
minute,  the  Chinaman,  glancing  down  from  his  step- 
ladder,  beheld  him  prostrate  on  the  office  floor,  which 
that  amiable  Asiatic  no  sooner  saw  than,  clattering 
down  his  ladder,  he  grasped  his  hatchet  and  was 
about  to  finish  him. 

"  Stop,  Quong!"  shouted  Norman. 

"  Me  likee  you — no  likee  him,"  and  again  he  made 
at  the  prostrate  man  with  the  hatchet.  By  this  time 
Norman  was  by  his  side,  and,  taking  him  by  the  queue 
held  him  back,  saying: 

u  Let  him  alone.  Quong." 

"  All  ligli'!  Me  likee  you — no  likee  him.  Bi-m-bi 
him  fiend  killee  you — me  sabe,"  said  the  Asiatic,  as 
lie  replaced  his  hatchet  on  the  window-sill  and  re- 
climbed  his  ladder  to  resume  his  work. 

Johnson  had  been  gone  a  very  short  time,  yet  now, 
when  he  returned  accompanied  by  Woolsey,  it  was 
evident  that  a  revolution  had  taken  place  since  he 
had  last  been  in  the  room.  Pie  paused  just  inside 
the  door;  AVoolsey  paused  in  the  doorway  behind 
him,  and  rather  to  one  side  of  him;  both  men  looked 
at  Blethers,  who  by  this  time  was  sitting  on  the  floor 
with  his  legs  stretched  out  in  front  of  him,  propping 
himself  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  felt 
about  his  eyes  and  face  for  some  confused  clue  to  his 
surroundings,  while  Norman  leaned  with  his  back 
and  elbows  against  the  office  counter  surveying  the 
field.  Presently,  Blethers,  in  the  dim  return  of  con- 
sciousness, with  the  instinct  of  habit,  took  his  hand 


144  SAND. 

from  his  face,  and  half  feebly  fumbled  around  the 
region  of  his  pistol-pocket,  but  the  shining  occupant 
of  that  pocket  lay  on  the  floor  behind  him,  where  it 
had  fallen  when  the  owner  fell. 

Johnson  said  nothing;  Woolsey  made  no  remark; 
Norman  looked  silently  on;  the  Chinaman  washed 
away  at  his  window  as  if  he  had  never  seen,  heard, 
or  dreamed  of  anything  unusual,  and  the  great  stamps 
in  the  mill  thundered  and  crushed  without  ceasing. 

41  Please  take  him  to  his  room,"  said  Norman,  point- 
ing to  his  foe,  who  was  now  numbly  gathering  him- 
self to  his  feet;  "  then  come  back,  and  I  will  pay  you 
what  is  due  you,"  and  there  was  a  cold,  metallic  ring 
to  his  usually  soft  voice. 

The  two  men,  without  a  word  spoken  between 
them,  took  the  defeated  man  by  his  arms  and  were 
moving  out  of  the  office,  when  Norman  stepped  for- 
ward, and,  picking  up  the  pistol,  said: 

"  Here,  take  this  with  you.     It  belongs  to  him." 

Then,  when  the  men  had  gone  away  with  Blethers, 
Norman  entered  his  own  room,  washed  his  hands, 
adjusted  his  outer  man,  and  came  back  to  his  desk. 

Johnson  and  Woolsey  did  not  return  immediately 
— nor  at  all,  that  day.  They  were  in  demand  after 
they  took  Blethers  to  his  own  place.  They  were 
called  upon  to  recount  what  they  had  seen  in  the 
office,  and  every  time  they  told  it  they  were  asked  by- 
some  listener: 

"  Who  done  it?" 

'•  Can't  prove  it  by  me,"  they  each  invariably  an- 
swered. 


SAND.  145 

"  Ye  don't  s'pose  that  little  feller  put  a  head  on  big 
Ben  Blethers,  do  you?" 

u  I  tell  ye,  ye  can't  prove  nothin'  by  me,"  said 
Johnson. 

"  And  there  wasn't  nobody  there  but  Blethers  an* 
him  an'  the  Chinaman?" 

"  Them's  all  I  seed  thar." 

"I  didn't  see  no  one  else  ther,"  said  the  reticent 
Wooisey. 

u  Then  it  must  a' been  the  little  feller  done  it." 

u  Oh,  no!  It  wasn't  him,"  said  the  bar-keeper,  who 
was  ambitions  of  being  a  wag;  u  it  was  the  Chinaman." 

"  Mebbe  old  Blethers  had  a  fit." 

"  Damn  close  fit,  too,"  said  the  bar-keeper  as  he 
stood  polishing  his  tumblers. 

'*  Hez  he  got  much  of  a  head  on  him  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  bar-keeper,  "he's  got  double- 
mumps,  ink-bottle  eyes,  and  a  Hurnboldt  spud  be- 
tween 'em." 

u  Wellibedam,"  said  each  listener,  reflectively. 

The  news  of  Blethers'  defeat  flew  up  and  down  the 
cafion,  from  rnouth  to  mouth,  from  cabin  to  cabin — 
into  the  mill,  where  it  was  shouted  from  lips  to  ears 
through  the  din  of  the  roaring  stamps — from  team 
to  team,  as  the  drivers  met  in  the  road — and  down 
into  the  mine,  where,  by  low,  deep  voices,  it  was 
retailed  in  the  glare  of  the  dim  lights,  which  burned 
with  breathless  silence. 

Men  desiring  to  see  the  battle-field  made  excuse  to 
call  at  the  office  and  inquire  for  Blethers. 
10 


146  SAND. 

"  Not  in  at  present,"  was  the  clerk's  polite  and 
brief  reply  to  each,  inquirer,  while  he  sat  at  his  desk 
apparently  absorbed  in  his  duties.  The  men,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  mountains  (and  perhaps  the  fash- 
ion is  not  confined  to  the  mountains),  would  have 
liked  Norman  to  come  among  them,  to  talk  with 
them  about  the  affair,  and  be  patted  on  the  back 
while  he  drank  with  them;  but  he  was  not  that  kind 
of  a  fighter.  He  had  not  sailed  around  the  world. 

When  the  Chinaman  came  out,  bucket  in  hand, 
ladder  on  shoulder,  after  finishing  his  task,  the  idlers 
in  camp  interrogated  him. 

"  John  'd  you  see  that  fight?" 

"  No  see  fightee." 

"The  hell  you  didn't!" 

"  No  see  'to  nodding — no  sabe  fightee." 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter  with  Blethers,  then?" 

"  Think  so — him  velle  sick — no  com'  ta  suppa." 

"  Ther'll  be  war  in  this  camp  when  Blethers  gets 
on  his  pins  again,"  said  one  workman  to  another, 
whom  he  met  on  the  street. 

"  Who'll  make  the  war?"  asked  the  party  addressed. 

"  Blethers  and  his  friends." 

"  H'  ain't  got  no  friends  but  his  pets,  and  they  ain't 
got  sand  enough  to  stand  up  to  a  red-eyed  gander." 

aWeli,  they  talk  war." 

"  Let  'em  talk — it's  cheap — but  they'd  better  hunt 
a  change  of  climate.  This  air  is  too  thin  for  'em — 
that's  what  the  boys  say." 

"All  right!  It  suits  your  Uncle  Reuben.  I  like 
the  little  clerk  fust-rate." 


SAND.  147 

"  So  do  I;  and  he  ain't  so  little,  either,  when  you 
stand  up  to  him." 

During  this  general  and  scattering  discussion,  Nor- 
man Maydole,  Jr.,  was  attending  to  his  duties  and 
reflecting.  As  he  came  across  the  street  to  supper, 
with  his  left  hand  wrapped  up  in  a  handkerchief,  the 
men,  of  whom  there  is  always  at  least  one  gang 
("shift"  they  call  it)  off  duty  in  a  mining  camp, 
looked  at  him,  saluted  him  politely,  but  asked  him 
no  questions. 

When  he  went  back  to  his  office,  after  supper,  he 
wrote  to  Colonel  Holten,  in  part,  as  follows: 

"  Herewith  I  send  you  statements  in  detail  of  last  month's  bus- 
iness.  I  hope  you  will  not  fail  to  note  a  slight  improvement — an 
increase  in  yield,  a  decrease  of  cost,  and  I  think  no  increase  of 
wear  and  tear,  or  neglect  of  supplies.  This  improvement  is  not 
directly,  but  perhaps  is  indirectly,  attributable  to  my  presence  here. 
Since  they  find  that  they  are  to  be  fairly  treated,  the  men  do  more 
and  better  work.  The  management  has,  for  certain  reasons,  been 
more  careful  and  less  lavish  of  expenditure.  If  you  think  best, 
you  may  tell  the  stockholders  generally  that  they  shall,  from  this 
time  forward,  have  every  cent  that  the  mine  can  be  made  to  earn 
as  long  as  I  remain  here.  I  can  never  be  able  to  explain  to  you 
how  I  arrived  at  so  confident  a  conclusion.  I  cannot  explain  it 

to  myself,  but well,  in  fact  I  have  grasped  the  situation,  and 

shall  hold  it.  I  had  a  personal  encounter  to-day  with  Mr.  Bleth- 
ers, the  foreman,  because  he  used  vile  language  to  me  and  at- 
tempted to  assault  me.  I  am  satisfied  with  the  result,  and  I  hope 
that  he  is.  Next  month,  if  nothing  disastrous  happens,  I  expect 
to  report  a  general  improvement." 

This  portion  of  the  letter  was  thoroughly  under- 
stood and  appreciated  at  the  home  office  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  Now,  lads,  'ere  be  a  chance  for  them  as  'ave  sense 
to  show  it  a  bit,"  said  "  Cussin'  Jack,"  in  the  saloon, 
as  he  sat  over  his  moderate  beer,  on  the  evening  of 
the  battle  between  May  dole  and  Blethers. 

"How  d'ye  mean,  Jack?"  asked  the  man  sitting 
opposite. 

"  It  daan't  taike  no  gret  sense  to  coom  at  my  mean- 
in'.  'Ere's  a  bit  row — a  feight — a  bust-oop  among 
bosses.  Wot's  to  come  on  it?  Wot's  to  come  on  it? 
Shall  t'  raoine  stop?  Shall  aw  on  us  tak'  blankets 
and  go  stnmpin'  down  t'  canon  road?"  And  Jack 
sipped  his  beer. 

"  No,  we'll  wait  here  for  a  new  deal.  The  company 
a'n't  goin'  to  give  it  up  so,"  said  another  workman. 

"  Not  if  they  know  theirselves,"  confidently  asserted 
another. 

"Gosh!  I  daan't  think  company's  had  much  to  do 
with  this  bizens  sin'  ivver  I  cora'd  'ere.  It's  aw  been 
Blethers  an'  t'  store,  more  loike." 

"  Well,  how're  we  goin'  to  show  sense,  Jack,  s'posin' 
we  got  any?" 

"  I'll  tell  yo',"  said  Jack,  taking  out  his  short  pipe 
and  tobacco-pouch  preparatory  to  filling  one  from  the 
other.  "  I'll  tell  yo'  'ow  we  can  show  a  bit  o'  sense  i' 
these  days.  Let  ivvery  rnon  work  forthright  ayead, 
same  as  thoft  nowt  was  misplaised.  Let  t'  dark  and 

148 


SAND.  149 

Blethers  feight  it  out  wi'  fair  play  on  both  sides,  an* 
best  mon  t'  win,"  and  he  put  his  now  filled  pipe  to  his 
mouth,  struck  a  match,  and  proceeded  to  add  his 
quota  of  smoke  to  the  hazy  upper  atmosphere  of  the 
room. 

"Your  head's  level,  Jack." 

"But  I  saay!"  exclaimed  Jack,  as  if  calling  special 
attention  to  his  next  remark,  "  theer  is  to  be  no  corn- 
in'  between  by  folk  o'  t'  store.  'Ands  hoff,  aw  round. 
That's  wot  I  saay." 

"  Hands  off,  goes,"  said  several  of  the  men. 

"  No  chap  can  tell  wot's  t'  next  moove  o'  Blethers. 
Certain  I  be  t'  clark  means  fair  aw  round,  and  moar 
certain  I  be  that  ee.  is  our  boss  fro'  this  day  forrid; 
but  ee  wearit  say  so  wi'out  paipers  to  show  for  it." 

"Are  you  runnin'  the  clerk  now,  Jack?" 

"No.  'Adn't  yo'  better  try  t'  run  un?"  responded 
Jack,  in  the  sarcastic  tone  of  the  other's  question. 
"  I'm  no  way  in  his  confeydance.  Ee  nivver  tell'd 
me  a  word  o'  's  bizens;  but  I  be'ent  bloind.  I  can 
see  a  owse  i'  broad  daylight." 

"A  boarding-house? "  mischievously  muttered  by 
some  one. 

"Ay!     A  boardin'-owse." 

"Era  brury?" 

"Ay,  lad,  or  a  breewery.  I  daan't  go  back  o'  a 
good  bite  or  a  fu'  glass — i'  moderation." 

"  Does  anybody  know  what  Blethers  is  doing,  about 
now?" 

"  Yes  he's  to  his  room  at  the  store,  in  bed." 


150  SAND. 

""What's  V  matter  wi'  un?  Ee  be'ent  cut  or  shot, 
bee  ee?" 

"  No,  but  the  little  devil  nearly  broke  his  neck.  So 
Woolsey  says." 

"  Ee  be'ent  daingerous  'urt,  be  ee?" 

"  No.  Woolsey  says  he  can't  hardly  move  his  head. 
Says  he  holds  it  to  one  side's  if  a  mule  kicked  him 
under  the  ear." 

"Is  his  face  bunged  up  much?" 

"  No,  there  ain't  nothin'  much  the  matter  with  his 
face.  That  little  feller  ain't  fool  enough  to  spile  his 
long  hands  on  no  face  when  he's  got  a  better 
show." 

"  "Well, Tony  Maguire  says  he  has  got  a  face  on  him 
like  a  sick  sea-lion." 

Here  the  men  laughed  all  round — not  at  the  remark, 
but  at  the  man  who  made  it.  The  idea  of  giving 
Tony  Maguire,  the  bar-keeper,  as  authority  for  the 
truth  of  anything,  was  a  joke  that  had  not  been  per- 
petrated for  years  anywhere  in  the  mountains. 

Thus  the  men  discussed,  in  their  own  rough  way, 
the  situation  of  affairs,  and  with  their  sagacity,  rather 
than  with  the  reasoning  power,  came  to  their  own  con- 
clusions— which  are  apt,  all  things  considered,  to  be 
about  right. 

"Well,  lads,  I  be  goin'  whoarri  to  go  to  bed,  an'  the 
word  is:  Fair  play  an'  no  interfeyrence,"  and,  knock- 
ing the  bowl  of  his  pipe  upon  his  thumb-nail,  he  left 
the  saloon. 

On  the  morrow  every  department  of  the  business 


SAND.  151 

went  forward  with,  if  anything,  more  than  usual 
quiet,  regularity,  and  promptness. 

There  was  no  arrest,  no  filing  of  complaints  or 
charges.  The  quarrel — at  least*  before  the  public — 
was  a  strictly  private  matter.  But  Norman  Maydole, 
Jr.,  knew  well  enough  that  his  position  was  not  made 
easier  by  his  late  combat.  He  also  knew — or,  if  he 
did  not  know,  he  felt — that,  having  set  the  ball  in 
motion,  he  must  follow  it  up,  or  give  it  up.  There- 
fore, after  breakfast,  he  put  some  papers  into  his 
pocket,  left  his  office,  and  walked  carefully  and  leis- 
urely down  to  the  store. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Blethers,"  he  said  to  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  store. 

"  Mr.  Blethers  will  see  you  soon  enough,"  said  the 
store-keeper. 

"  I  want  to  see  him  now,"  said  Norman,  not  choos- 
ing to  notice  the  covert  threat. 

Several  of  the  men,  having  noticed  Norman  going 
to  the  store,  now  came  in. 

"  You  cannot  see  Mr.  Blethers  until  he  is  ready  to 
see  you." 

"  I  wish  to  see  him  upon  business  as  important  -to 
him  as  it  is  to  me;  you  will  be  good  enough,"  said 
Norman,  taking  a  card  from  his  pocket  and  rapidly 
penciling  upon  it,  "  to  permit  this  message  to  be 
taken  to  him,  while  I  wait  his  answer." 

"  I  am  not  carrying  messages  at  present." 

"  I  did  not  ask  you  to  carry  it.  I  asked  you  to  per- 
mit it  to  be  taken  to  him;"  then, turning  to  the  little 


152  SAND. 

crowd  of  men  who  were  watching  the  proceedings, 
he  said:  " Gentlemen,  might  I  ask  one  of  you  to 
carry  this  message  to  Mr.  Blethers?" 

Instantly  a  trio  of  brawny  right  hands  was  extended, 
into  one  of  which  Norman  politely  placed  his  missive. 
This  hand  happened  to  be  that  of  Long  Johnson. 

"  Bring  the  answer  to  the  office,  please,  Mr.  John- 
son." 

"  Ef  I  git  one,"  said  Johnson,  departing  on  his 
errand.  As  this  errand  took  Mr.  Johnson  through 
the  length  of  the  store-room,  it  seemed  for  a  bare 
instant  that  he  would  be  denied  a  passage;  but  the 
presence  of  an  increasing  crowd  of  witnesses,  perhaps, 
silently  cleared  his  way. 

Johnson  was  but  a  minute  gone  when  he  returned 
and  followed  Norman.  Overtaking  him  before  he 
reached  his  office,  he  brought  him  back  with  him  and 
escorted  him  through  the  store,  despite  the  lowering 
face  of  the  keeper.  It  was  some  time — nearly  an 
hour — before  Norman  appeared  again.  The  men 
standing  around  the  store-door  began  to  grow  uneasy, 
and  to  mutter  among  themselves. 

"  I  think  it's  all  right,  boys,"  said  Fitzgibbon,  who 
happened,  he  best  knew  why,  to  be  one  of  the  com- 
pany. "  I  don't  think  there  is  anything  about  this 
store  that  can  get  away  with  the  clerk  and  Long 
Johnson,  in  ary  spot  or  place." 

By  and  by,  Norman  came  out,  bowed  to  the  men 
as  he  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  hurried  away  to 
his  office  alone. 


SAND.  153 

"  Gone  fer  his  gun,"  whispered  one  to  the  other. 

"  He  never  goes  that  far  for  his  gun,"  said  the 
other. 

Here,  Long  Johnson  appeared,  coming  from  the 
store  into  the  crowd,  with  an  unusually  wide-awake 
expression  on  his  face. 

"  What's  up,  Jonse?"  asked  one,  as  they  all  closed 
around  him,  and,  with  one  common  impulse,  moved 
up  street  toward  the  saloon. 

"I  dunno  what's  up;  T  never  see  sich  a  thing  in 
iny  life.  You  see,  I  went  in  ther'  with  the  keard,  an' 
Blethers  was  layin'  down  on  the  outside  of  his  bed, 
with  his  wearin'  clothes  an'  dressin'-wo'mus  on,  and 
his  right  hand  under  his  stiff  neck.  I  give  him  the 
keard,  an'  he  tuk  it  in  his  left  hand  an'  looked  at  it, 
then  sez  to  me:  '  Where  is  May  dole?1  Sez  I:  'He's 
out  in  front.'  Sez  he:  'Bring  him  in  yer.'  Well, 
then,  you  know,  I  cum  out  and  brung  Maydole  in. 
4  Maydole,  have  you  anything  agin  me  mor'n  what 
passed  yesterday?'  l  No,  sir,  not  personally,'  sez  the 
clerk.  '  Are  you  satisfied  with  our  game  as  far  as 
we've  got?'  sez  Blethers.  b  I  regret  the  whole  thing? 
but  I  have  nothing  to  take  back — yes,  I  am  satisfied,' 
sez  the  clerk.  '  So  am  I,'  sez  Blethers,  taking  his 
hand  from  under  his  neck  an'  offering  it  to  Maydole; 
and,  dang  my  skin,  boys,  if  the  tears  didn't  come  into 
the  clerk's  eyes  when  he  tuk  that  'man's  hand.  1 
never  see  nuthin'  like  it — never." 

"  Well,  what  did  they  do  then?" 

"  Maydole  hill  on  to  his  hand,  an'  nary  one  of  'em 


154  SAND. 

said  a  word  fer  about  two  minutes.  Then  sez  Bleth- 
ers: 'Why  didn't  you  make  it  known  before?'  '  You 
didn't  give  me  no  chance,'  sez  the  clerk.  Then  I  see 
it  was  all  smooth  sail  in'  between  'ein,  an'  I  stepped 
out  back;  but  I  didn't  go  fur  away,  'kaze  I  thought 
ole  Blethers  mought  be  playin'  'possum." 

u  Both  of  'em  found  out  they  b'long  to  the  i  Union,' 
I  reckon." 

"  Dern  if  I  know  what  they  found  out;  all  I  know 
is,  that  Maydole  tuk  a  seat  'longside  o'  Blethers,  and 
they  talked  for  about  half  an  hour  straight  as  a  string. 
I  think  they  wuz  talkin'  about  the  mine,  but  I  dunno. 
Ther'  wuz  papers  between  'em." 

"  "Well,  now,  old  Blethers  ain't  sich  a  bull-head, 
after  all,"  said  one  of  the  men,  as  the  crowd  passed 
into  the  saloon. 

"  He's  come  to  his  senses.  He  had  the  big-head 
bad,  an'  a  poultice  o'  bones  cured  him." 

"  Blethers  is  not  sich  a  bad  feller.  Ther'  is  other 
fellers  behind  him  in  this  biz  that's  wuss'n  he  is. 
Old  Nosegrinder,  down  ther'  at  the  store,  is  a  meaner 
man  than  Blethers  dare  be,  only  Nosegrinder  is  a 
damn  old  coward,  and  Ben  Blethers  isn't.  He  picked 
the  wrong  man  when  he  bounced  the  clerk;  but  it's 
no  use  talkin',  Ben'll  tight." 

"  All  right,  boys,  peace  beats  war.  Lets  all  take 
a  drink,"  said  Charley  Fitzgibbon.  "  Set  'ern  up, 
Tony!" 

"What  shall  it  be,  gentlemen?"  said  the  affable 
Tony,  as  he  kimboed  his  white-shirted  arms  on  the 
counter,  and  looked  into  the  faces  before  him. 


SAND.  155 

"  Tony,  you  get  purtier  every  day — that  top-knot 
o'  your'n  is  a  reg'lar  Conklirr." 

"  Them  brass-mounted  dog-collars  on  his  arms  sets 
him  off  bigger'n  a  Piute  belle." 

Tony  winked  and  grimaced  in  response  to  the  gen- 
eral chaffing,  but  kept  down  to  his  business  until  lie 
was  able  to  say,  with  a  flourish  of  his  napkin:  "  All 
set,  gentlemen." 

"Toast,  boys,"  said  Fitzgibbon, elevating  his  glass: 

"  'Yer's  to  peace  an'  quiet  an'  right; 
To  the  man  that  knows  when  not  to  fight; 
To  the  gentleman  born  with  a  quiet  jaw- 
Bones  in  his  hands,  and  sand  in  bis  craw.'  " 

The  sentiment  was  unanimously  imbibed;  and,  as 
each  man  placed  his  empty  glass  upon  the  counter, 
each  man  also  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  ball  of  his 
thumb,  and  emphatically  remarked:  u  You  bet  your 
boots." 

"  Gentlemen,  you  should  not  use  such  expressions 
as  "  You  bet  your  boots,' "  remarked  the  affable  Tony, 
as  he  gayly  cleared  away  the  line  of  glasses. 

"  What  ought  we  to  say?" 

"  You  should  have  said,  in  response  to  the  gentle- 
man's toast — you  should  have  said:  "  Heaw!  heaw!' 
or* Hip!  hip!'" 

"'Hip!  hip!'"  said  the  other  speaker,  scornfully; 
"  ther'  ain't  no  sense  in  that — mor'n  ther'  is  in  kioty 
barkin'." 

"  I'll  leave  it  to  Barton ;  .he's  a  college-bred  rooster." 

"  How  is  it,  Burton?"  asked  Tony,  of  a  tall,  slender 


156  SAND. 

person  who  had  just  joined  in  the  drinking,  and  sat 
down  by  the  stove. 

"  Ah,  well!"  said  the  man  addressed,  in  that  softer 
accent  found  among  the  educated  English,  "  both 
forms  are  proper  enough,  I  dare  say.  One  is  as  much 
slang  as  the  other.  '  You  bet  your  boots!'  is  very  em- 
phatic, clean  English,  I  fancy,  and  has  a  much 
healthier  origin  than  such  exclamations  as  ;IIip! 
hip!'  which  is  a  feudal  idiocy  got  by  mispronouncing 
the  old  crusaders'  cry  of  '  Hep!  hep!'  which  is  bor- 
rowed from  the  initials  of  Hierosolyma  TZst  Yerdita — 
Jerusalem  is  lost!'" 

u  Thar,  Tony!  that  lays  over  you.  That  thar's  the 
difference  a-tween  larnin'  and  gas,"  exclaimed  a  vol- 
unteer by  the  stove. 

u  There  is  certainly  more  sense  in  saying  '  You  bet 
your  boots,'  as  endorsement  to  a  social  sentiment,  than 
there  is  in  shouting  '  Jerusalem  is  lost!'  "  said  Bur- 
ton. 

"  Of  course  ther'  is.  Whoonhell  cares  whether 
Jerusalem  is  lost  or  not?" 

"  I  hain't  lost  no  Jerusalem,"  said  a  sententious 
listener,  as  he  heaved  his  feet  up  on  the  railing  round 
the  stove. 

"I  fancy,"  continued  Burton,  "that  Jerusalem  is 
a  bit  of  a  humbug.  I  was  there  once  myself.  The 
country  is  very  much  such  a  place  as  this  is.  Rugged 
mountains,  bits  of  green  valleys,  where  there  is  any 
water,  and  after  that  grease- wood  deserts,  alkali  flats, 
etc.  The  city  itself  is  a  nawsty  old  camp — very  dirty 


sa  N  D.  15T 

and  uncomfortable.  I  d  Aare  say  the  old  i  shebang,' 
you  boys  would  call  it,  has  cost  more  blood  twice  over 
than  its  memories  are  worth.  It  is  stoped  out — 
there  is  nothing  in  it.  But  to  put  up  one's  boot  as 
so2ial  '  collateral,'  there  is  something  in  that.  It 
means  business,  and  it  is  strictly  American.  There- 
fore," added  Burton,  assuming  a  severely  forensic 
aspect,  "the  judicial  mind  is  clearly  on  the  side  of 
the  boots.  Henceforth  let  the  unlearned  not  cry 
'Slang!'  until  they  cease  to  borrow  pet  exclamations 
from  the  frantic  fury  of  the  shouting  rabble  who  cut 
Hebrew  throats  with  pious  knives,  ground  on  Chris- 
tian grindstones,  in  the  twelfth  and  fourteenth  cen- 
turies." 

"  Dony,  sed  'em  ub  again.  Shentlemens,  auf  you 
blease,  drink  mit  me."  So  said,  so  done;  and,  as  the 
gentleman  of  Jewish  descent  paid  for  the  imbibations, 
the  party  again  sat  down  around  the  stove. 

"  Well,  it  gets  me"  said  Fitzgibbon,  as  they  were 
sitting  down. 

"  What's  that  get's  you,  Charley?" 

"  Old  Blethers'  new  dodge.  Somehow  I  can't  just 
take  it.  I  didn't  think  he'd  cave  so  easy.  Must  be 
something,"  said  Fitzgibbon;  "  something  behind  all 
this." 

What  further  discussion  would  have  ensued  may 
not  be  known;  for  just  at  that  moment  Norman 
Maydole,  Jr.,  opened  the  street  door  and  called: 

"Mr.  Fitzgibbon." 

"  Allrightsir,"    with  the  curious   rapid   utterance, 


158  SAND. 

up-and-down  inflection,  and  independent  manner  of  a 
mountain  miner. 

"  Step  this  way,  sir,"  said  Norman,  still  holding  to 
the  outside  knob  of  the  door. 

Fitzgibbon  passed  out;  and,  as  Norman  closed  the 
door  behind  them,  he  said: 

"  I  am  going  to  the  mine.  Would  you  object  to 
a  walk  that  far?" 

"  Not  much,"  and  they  walked  away  together  in 
the  dirty  melting  trail  through  the  snow. 

"  Winter's  settin'  in  pretty  sharp,"  remarked  Fitz- 
gibbon, as  they  walked  along. 

"  You  do  not  have  much  winter  here,  do  you?" 

"  It's  mightily  mixed.  It's  hard  to  tell,  sometimes, 
if  a  man  summers  here  all  winter,  or  winters  here  all 
summer.  A  man'll  get  his  nose  peeled  with  the  sun, 
and  his  toes  froze  in  the  same  day." 

"  Well!"  exclaimed  Norman,  with  rather  incredu- 
lous emphasis. 

"  It's  a  fact.  The  nearest  ever  I  was  to  being  dead 
with  cold,  in  broad  daylight,  was  on  the  4th  of  May, 
1867.  And  I  could  show  you  the  mountain  where  it 
happened,  if  we  were  up  out  of  the  canon." 

"Was  it  so  cold  as  that?" 

u  No;  I  didn't  think  it  was  so  very  cold.  I've  seen 
lots  colder  weather  in  York  State,  and  I've  camped 
out  colder  in  war  time,  in  old  Virginia;  but  somehow 
this  high  atmosphere  thins  a  feller's  blood." 

"How  high  are  we?" 

"  Upward  of  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  Pacific 


SAND.  159 

Ocean;  so  Lieutenant  Wheeler  said,  when  he  was  sur- 
veying round  here  for  the  Government." 

"  Many  of  the  silver  mines  are  high  in  the  altitudes, 
are  they  not?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  You  can't  get  too  high  for  them,  be- 
cause the  country  rocks  you  find  silver  mines  in  are 
as  high  rocks  as  there  is.  Granite,  quartz,  porphyry, 
black-slate,  and  the  old  limes  makes  about  the  highest 
bumps  on  earth." 

"How  low?" 

"  Never  saw  a  silver  mine  worth  a  damn  below  four 
thousand  feet." 

"Do  you  think  none  are  lower  than  that?  I  have 
read  of  silver  at  Lake  Superior  and  in  New  England 
and  elsewhere,  and  it  seems  to  me  the  altitudes  were 
lower." 

"  Well,  then,  they  was  not  mines — they  might  have 
found  some  silver;  but  I'll  take  the  chances  on  there 
being  no  good  mines  in  them  lower  places." 

Thus  conversing,  they  arrived  at  the  mine-mouth, 
where  Mr.  Maydole  presented  a  written  paper  to  the 
man  at  the  engine,  and,  after  some  delay  and  change 
of  clothing,  etc.,  they  disappeared  into  the  bowels  of 
the  earth  in  that  noiseless,  sinking  way  that  always 
seems  to  the  casual  observer  like  a  quiet  "  farewell 
forever." 

"Now,"  said  Fitzgibbon,  as  they  stepped  off  the 
cage,  "if  we  are  going  to  know  all  about  this  mine 
weVe  got  to  look  out." 

"I  do  not  see  much  opportunity  for  looking  out," 


160  SAND. 

said  Norman,  gazing  about  him  upon  the  glittering 
edges  and  lowering  corners  of  the  hundreds  of  feet  of 
solid  darkness  between  him  and  daylight. 

"'No,  not  that  kind  of  look  out,"  responded  Fitz- 
gibbon,  with  a  chuckle;  "but  there  is  plenty  to  look 
out  for  down  here — mighty  sharp  look  out,  too,  at 
that — as  we  will  find  when  we  get  to  crawling  through 
the  old  stopes  and  sliding  down  old  winzes." 

"  The  men  don't  seem  to  mind  it,"  said  Norman, 
as  he  trudged,  with  hollowing,  echoing  tread,  behind 
his  companion. 

"  Well,  they  know  just  where  they  are  going — they 
go  there  every  day;  but  it  takes  more  sand  to  explore 
old  works  than  it  does  to  open  out  new  ones.  A  min- 
ing expert,  if  he's  a  good  one,  has  to  take  lots  of 
chances  in  crawling  around  in  mines." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Norman;  "but  I  want  to  see 
all  there  is  of  this  mine.  I  think  I  can  crawl  or 
climb  anywhere  that  you  can." 

"  Do  you?"  said  Fitzgibbon,  holding  his  light  aloft 
to  scan  the  upper  timbering.  "  Come  ahead,  then. 
We'll  see  the  men  at  work  first;  arid  then  we  will 
look  through  the  reserves  arid  wastes." 

Thus  they  tramped  through  the  more  modern  and 
scientific  working;  then  crawled  and  climbed  and  slid 
through  the  older  parts,  where  the  workings  were 
rudimentary  and  dangerously  primitive;  until,  tired 
and  sore,  they  returned  to  the  upper  earth  and  day- 
light by  the  way  they  came.  At  the  surface  the  ex- 
plorers re-adjusted  themselves  in  the  habiliments  of 


SAND.  161 

ordinary  citizenship,  and  proceeded  down  the  cafion, 
conversing  by  the  way. 

"  I  shall  want  to  go  through  the  mine  again,  some 
day,  soon,  and  make  such  survey  and  measurements 
as  will  enable  me  to  map  out  the  whole  workings." 

"All  right,"  said  Fitzgibbon,  "I'll  go  with  you 
when  you  please,  if  you  want  me." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  surveying  under 
ground?" 

"No;  but  Cussin'  Jack  does.  He  can  map  out  a 
mine  better  than  anybody — with  instruments  or  with- 
out them." 

With  this  -high  compliment  to  Jack,  Fitzgibbon 
turned  off  to  the  saloon,  while  Norman  pursued  his 
way  to  his  office,  where  he  rested  himself  awhile  and 
reflected,  then  proceeded  to  write  to  Colonel  Holten 
a  long  letter,  of  which  the  following  is  a  portion: 

"  You  will  remember  that  I  wrote  you  in  my  last  of  trouble 
with  Mi.  Blethers.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  trouble  over 
and  passed  away.  I  think  Mr.  Blethers  has  been  '  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning.'  He  has  carried  a  load  for  other  people. 
That  is  what  he  gives  me  to  understand,  and  I  believe  him.  I  do 
not  wish  to  say  he  has  not  been  a  willing  spoke  in  the  wheel  of 
misfortune  as  to  this  business— I  know  that  he  has — but  the  hub 
of  the  wheel  is  in  your  own  city.  He  is  no  longer  at  enmity  with 
me.  Like  '  Uncle  Damas'  in  the  Lady  of  Lyons,  he  '  likes  a  man 
after  he  has  fought  with  him.'  He  tells  me  that  he  will  offer  his 
resignation  in  a  few  clays.  You  may,  therefore,  expect  to  appoint 
his  successor.  But  I  would  caution  you  to  consider  whether  it  is 
necessary  to  fill  his  place  with  so  high  a  salary — at  least,  so  long 
as  I  am  here.  There  are  many  experienced,  careful,  practical 
miners  who  could  do  all  that  he  actually  does.  There  are  men 
here  now,  at  miners'  wages,  who  know  the  character  and  capacity 
11 


162  SAND. 

of  this  mine  as  well  as  he  does,  or,  in  fact,  as  well  as  it  can  be 
known.  All  that  is  needed  here  is  a  practical  under-ground  boss, 
at  least  until  the  mine  yields  more  heavily,  or  ceases  to  yield. 
The  general  business  and  moral  force  I  will  assume  to  wield  with- 
out present  increase  of  salary,  if  it  suits  the  owners  of  the  mine 
to  have  me  do  so.  Please  call  the  attention  of  your  co-owners  to 
the  slightly  improved  yield  of  this  month  over  last;  also  to  the 
shrinkage  in  expenditure,  and  the  schedule  of  supplies  on  hand 
to  date.  I  have  made  a  careful  and  minute  preliminary  survey  of 
the  mine.  I  can  not  promise  any  'bonanza,'  but,  unless  we  strike 
some  unlocked  for  barrenness,  I  think  I  may  intimate  a  gradual 
improvement.  If  there  is  anything  in  which  I  may  suspect  the 
sincerity  of  Mr.  Blethers'  repentance  it  is  in  his  willingness  to 
quit;  but  if  it  should  be  that  he  thinks  I  may  follow  out  his 
methods,  and  so  come  to  grief  by  going  blindly  in  the  wrong 
direction,  where  he  went  purposely,  I  hope  he  is  mistaken." 

Having  finished  this  letter,  and  having  gone  to 
and  returned  from  his  supper,  he  wrote  the  following 
to  another  person: 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM  :  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  ask  me,  some 
months  ago,  to  write  you  a  letter — a  sort  of  family  letter,  I  think 
you  said — from  this  part  of  the  world.  If  I  only  could  write  real 
intelligence  of  the  common  things  which  throng  about  me  every 
day — that  is,  if  I  could  materialize  constant  eventuations  so  that 
you  could  truly  see  the  life  that  is  in  them — I  might  make  you 
something  interesting;  but,  failing  in  that,  I  have  my  reward  in 
the  pleasure  of  the  duty,  and  my  gratification  in  the  daring  of  the 
endeavor. 

"There  is  none  of  what  would  be  called  society  here,  and  if 
there  were,  it  would  be  presumption  on  my  part  to  become  its 
historiographer;  but  there  is  here  an  interesting  people.  They 
are  of  all  lands  under  the  sun,  and  they  are  not  the  'home-staying 
youths  who  have  ever  homely  wits'  of  the  lands  they  hail  from. 
They  are  all  or  nearly  all  males,  more  or  less  mature.  Each  has 
his  own  peculiar  individuality,  but  they  have  one  common  char- 
acteristic, and  that  is  quickness  of  comprehension.  This  charac- 
teristic seems  to  be  climatic — owing  mayhap  to  altitude- — and  is 


SAND.  163 

consonant  with  the  clearness,  dryness,  and  purity  of  the  atmos- 
phere. They  are  not  good  people  in  the  Sunday-school  view,  but 
there  is  a  spirit  of  charity  and  a  Saxon  sense  of  fair  play  about 
them  which  is  a  substitute  for  goody-goodness,  worthy  respect 
from  the  righteous.  So  far  as  I  can  observe,  sanctified  hypocrisy 
is  nearly  unknown  up  here.  Whatever  of  vice  there  is,  is  open  to 
the  sun — there  are  no  screens,  no  green  and  leaf-like  lattice- work 
to  stimulate  scrutiny.  Everything  is  open,  or,  as  the  inhabitants 
express  it, '  Everything  goes.'  And  yet,  when  one  considers  the 
absence  of  all  the  gentle  and  softening  influences  of  home-life,  it 
is  wonderful  how  little  we  have  of  the  petty  crimes  and  lower 
immoralities.  Our  crimes  here  are  mostly  homicides  and  high- 
way robberies ;  which,  if  there  is  ever  any  virtue  in  crime,  may 
be  classed  among  the  manliest  in  the  books.  While  we  have  here 
our  criminal  element,  as  every  place  has,  I  would  be  willing  to 
stake  my  life  on  it,  that  a  woman,  a  child,  or  a  disabled  person  is 
safer  here,  day  or  night,  than  upon  any  street  in  San  Francisco. 
A  deliberate  or  gross  insult  by  a  man  to  a  woman  or  child— par- 
ticularly a  female  child— is  a  bid  for  instant  death,  and  the 
general  verdict  on  the  remains  of  the  insulter  is, '  Served  him 
right.'  Still,  among  themselves,  in  their  customary  haunts, 
these  people  are  not  sparing  of  each  other.  Every  man  who 
makes  a  claim  to  self-sufficiency  is  called  upon  at  the  gaming 
tables,  in  drinking  bouts,  and  in  business  to  make  his  claim  good. 
Ko  man  here  is  any  other  able-bodied  person's  guardian.  Who- 
ever wishes  to  go  to  the  dogs,  goes  to  the  dogs.  There  is  no 
restraint,  or,  as  they  express  it  here,  *  There  is  nobody  holding  you.' 
"Of  course  it  is  all  what  may  be  called  mining  life.  But  it  is 
not  the  California  mining  life  which  I  have  seen  and  known 
somewhat  all  my  days;  nor  yet  is  it  all  like  the  coal  and  iron- 
mining  of  tlie  Eastern  States,  which  we  read  about.  It  is  not  like 
any  other  life,  because  it  is  the  result  of  climate,  soil, topography, 
and  environment  in  every  way  different  from  other  mining  regions. 
Here  is  no  class  of  men  in  high  top-boots  and  broad  felt-hats,  with 
piratical  whiskers  and  ponderous  pistols.  There  is  here  a  curi- 
ous, broadly  humorous,  or  quaint  burlesque  use  of  the  King's 
English;  also,  a  cropping  out  of  dialects,  with  a  grotesque  com- 
mingling of  idioms;  but  there  is  little,  or  rather  none  at  all,  of 


164  SAND. 

•s  a    •-  5      3 

that  uncouth,  sprawling  awkwardness  and  dullness  of  apprehen- 
sion, which  we  may  call  gawkery,  so  commonly  depicted  in  our 
Pacific-slope  literature  as  miners'  characteristics.  The  '  frontiers- 
man' is  here,  but  the  'backwoodsman,'  if  he  ever  was  present,  has 
been  elminated.  The  miner  here  is  a  modestly — sometimes  ele- 
gantly— well-dressed,  cleanly  male  person  of  polite  address,  who 
changes  his  clothing  at  least  twice  in  twenty-four  hours — once  as 
he  goes  down  into  the  mine,  and  once  again,  eight  hours  afterward, 
as  he  comes  up  out  of  the  mine.  He  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  under- 
ground aristocrat,  if  I  may  express  it;  and,  like  a  physician,  or 
priest,  or  other  exclusively  professional  person,  he  almost  scorns 
the  humiliations  of  ordinary  employments  as  beneath  his  dignity. 
His  occupation  being  to  all  appearance  a  dangerous  one — cer- 
tainly one  demanding  strength  of  muscle  and  steadiness  of  nerve 
—makes  of  him  a  responsible  person.  Not  only  is  he  responsible 
to  the  superintending  power,  but  also  to  the  fellow-workmen  who 
follow  him  in  the  chambers  of  the  darkness.  The  life  of  one 
miner  may  be  said  to  hang  on  the  thoroughness  and  honesty  of 
another  miner's  work;  where  an  ill-adjusted  prop,  a  defective 
timber,  a  neglected  precaution,  may  bring  down  tons  of  solid  cal- 
amity, oceans  of  water,  or  a  deluge  of  dead  air,  it  behooves  the 
workman  to  know  what  he  is  doing,  and  to  do  it  well. 

"  These  conditions  bring  the  miners  into  a  rather  '  close  com- 
munion,' which  they  call  the  *  Miners'  Union' — an  institution  of 
which  I  know  nothing,  save  by  report,  but  which  makes  of  the 
miners  a  separate  guild. 

"  No  matter  where  born  or  how  bred,  each  man,  upon  coming 
among  his  people,  be  he  old  or  young,  seems  to  fall  into  the  ways 
and  adopt  the  tone  of  the  country.  Therefore,  there  is  a  peculiar 
flavor  to  the  humor,  an  oddity  to  the  wit,  and  a  general  character 
of  not  unpleasant  surprise  in  the  individualism  that  abounds  here. 
This  character  of  surprise — this  unusual  quality  of  the  unexpected 
in  the  rendering  of  common  things — is  what,  as  I  think,  gives  the 
charm,  the  irrepressible  charm,  to  the  writings  of  Mark  Twain. 
It  is  a  sort  of  climatic,  desperate  buoyancy;  or  perhaps  it  might 
be  called  the  fanny  devil-may-careisin  of  hard  common  sense. 

"  Considering  the  wild  excitement  of  business  risk  which  often 
prevails  here,  the  expansion  and  contraction  of  hope,  the  eleva- 


SAND.  165 


tion  and  depression  of  great  expectations,  one  would  look  to  find 
the  people  addicted  to  suicide,  but  I  do  not  find  it  so.  There  are 
men  working  here  as  day-laborers  who  have  gained  and  lost  life- 
competencies,  which  were,  save  in  the  modern  millionaire  sense, 
quite  large  fortunes;  yet  these  men,  and  all  men  here,  seem  en- 
dowed with  an  undismayed  spirit  of  humorous  buoyancy. 

"  Altogether,  they  are  a  great  and  peculiar  people,  and  I  must 
beg  you  to  excuse  my  feeble  and  tedious  effort  to  depict  them. 

"Herewith  I  send  some  brilliant  specimens  of  how  Nature 
paints  and  arrays  her  glittering  chambers  in  the  solid  depths. 
They  are  not  valuable,  but  they  are  curious,  if  not  beautiful. 

44  Tell  Miss  Ellen  and  little  Miss  Mary  that  I  have  a  pet.  It  is 
a  lizard— a  funny  little  fellow.  He  is  a  kind  of  sentimental  com- 
ique.  His  dress  consists  of  an  ashen-black  coat  of  delicate  mail, 
which  changes  to  a  bluish  gray  as  it  comes  around  from  his  back, 
until  it  connects  in  a  cream-colored  blending  on  his  breast  and 
abdomen.  Then  he  has  white  lips  and  a  biue  blending  into  black 
nose;  but,  most  grand  of  all,  he  has  a  vermilion  stripe,  about  as 
wide  as  the  edge  of  a  half-dollar,  which  starts  at  each  corner  of 
his  mouth,  and  continues  along  his  neck  and  down  the  inside  of 
his  arms  (or  fore-legs)  till  it  ends  in  each  thumb  on  his  hands — 
for  he  has  hands.  He  has  a  very  long  tail,  as  long  as  he  is,  which 
is  about  four  inches.  He  has  gentle  little  eyes,  which  are  nearly 
human  in  expression,  and  he  can  wink  them  in  the  cunningest 
way  that  ever  was  seen. 

"  Every  day,  when  the  room  is  warm,  and  while  I  am  writing 
he  comes  in  at  a  hole  in  the  floor,  and  climbs  nimbly  up  the  leg 
of  ray  desk  to  perch  himself  in  front  of  me,  on  the  top  rail  of  the 
book-rack ;  and  there  he  watches  me  by  turning  his  head  cutely, 
first  to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other.  If  I  stop  writing  to  look 
at  him,  he  immediately  begins  pumping  himself  up  and  down  on 
his  fore-legs,  as  though  he  were  saluting  me  in  the  most  profound 
manner  known  to  reptilian  etiquette.  When  he  salutes  me  in  that 
manner,  I  always  think  of  the  little  rhyme  about  the  old  man 
clothed  in  leather : 

"  'He  began  to  compliment,  I  began  to  grin, 
With  a  how-d'ye-do, 
And  a  how  d'ye-do, 
And  a  how-d'ye-do  again/ 


166  SAND. 

"  If  a  stranger  enters  the  office  room,  my  pet  darts  away,  down 
the  corner  and  leg  of  the  desk,  in  a  most  sudden  and  surprising 
manner,  and  disappears  through  the  hole  in  the  floor.  When  the 
weather  was  warmer,  there  were  flies  abroad  in  the  air,  and  then 
I  put  some  damp  sugar  on  a  piece  of  paper  and  placed  it  where 
my  pet  usually  stationed  himself.  Did  he  eat  the  sugar  ?  Bless 
us,  no!  But  the  flies  came  to  eat  the  sugar,  and  my  pet  devoured 
the  flies.  He  has  nice  little  creamy-blue  hands  with  vermilion- 
lined  thumbs,  but  he  does  not  use  his  hands  to  catch  flies.  He 
has  a  machine  made  on  purpose  for  that  business.  I  guess  it  is 
his  tongue,  but  I  do  not  know.  Anyway,  he  darts  it  out  of  his 
mouth  so  quickly  that  you  can  scarcely  see  it  while  you  are  look- 
ing, but  you  see  a  fly  disappear.  Then  the  lizard  snaps  his  eyes, 
and  pumps  up  and  down  once  or  twice  on  his  arms  akimbo,  as  if 
he  thought  it  a  good  joke  on  the  fly. 

"  A  bad  man  threw  some  tobacco  dust  in  my  pet's  eye  one  day, 
and  my  pet  scampered  away,  and  did  not  come  into  the  office 
again  for  several  days  (the  man  has  not  been  in  since),  and  when 
he  did  come  back  to  his  accustomed  place,  he  looked  at  me  and 
wiped  his  eye  with  the  back  of  his  little  hand,  as  much  as  to  say: 
'  Please  don't  do  that  again,  it  hurts.' 

"  The  roaring  and  jarring  of  the  stamps  in  the  mill  near  by  do 
not  disturb  my  pet  in  the  least.  He  seems  to  enjoy  it. 

"  Please  tell  the  girls  they  must  not  think  it  too  strange  or 
eccentric  in  me  to  make  a  pet  of  such  a  creature.  It  is  not  my 
fault.  He  was  here  when  I  came ;  though  I  failed  to  take  any 
particular  notice  of  him  for  several  days  after  I  arrived.  He  is  a 
very  cleanly,  well-behaved  and  highly  respectable,  harmless  char- 
acter, and  a  member  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  families  in  the 
land. .  His  ancestors  are  renowned  among  the  names  which  adorn 
our.  scientific  annals.  If  it  were  not  too  cruel  an  act  I  would 
secure  him  and  send  him  into  captivity  to  amuse  my  gentle  young 
friends;  but  I  have  not  the  heart  to  remove  him  from  his  sterile 
haunts. 

"  'Whose  rude  winds 
But  bind  him  to  his  native  hills  the  more.' 

"  My  health  is  very  good,  but,  then,  as  it  was  never  otherwise, 
that  is  no  news;  although  for  some  days  after  my  arrival  here  I 


SAND.  167 

had  difficulty  in  getting  sufficient  breath.  There  is  plenty  of 
breath  here,  but  I  could  not  inhale  enough  of  it  at  first.  Now, 
however,  I  take  in  vast  supplies  of  it.  It  is  the  pure  ether  of  the 
altitudes. 

'•  Please  make  rny  kindest  remembrances  to  the  young  ladies  of 
the  household,  and  tell  them  that  the  '  cruel  war  is  over,'  and  now, 
like  Dominie  Sampson,  I  am  a  man  of  peace. 

'*  My  letters  from  home  inform  me  that  my  parents  and  all  our 
family  are  well  and  contented,  which  I  hope,  dear  madam,  may 
ever  be  the  case  with  yourself  and  with  all  in  whom  you  are 
interested. 

"  Your  very  respectful  servant, 

"  NORMAN  MAYDOLE,  JR." 

Having  written  these  two  letters  he  immediately 
mailed  the  first  one,  but  though  he  carefully  folded 
and  enveloped  the  second,  he  did  not  mail  it  that  day, 
nor  the  next  day,  nor  yet  for  several  days.  He  was 
fearful  that  this  latter  letter  was  not  what  should  be 
expected  of  him.  He  wanted  to  say  more  on  one 
topic  and  less  upon  others,  yet  he  did  not  wish  to 
appear  as  pressing,  in  the  letter,  the  point  most  dwelt 
upon  in  his  mind.  Several  times  he  thought  of  re- 
writing the  letter,  but  at  last,  as  much  hesitation  was 
never  in  his  disposition,  he  sealed  it  and  sent  it. 

During  these  days  in  which  he  carried  the  letter  in 
his  pocket,  he  was  no  inactive  dreamer — on  the  con- 
trary, he  was  more  thoroughly  engaged  than  he  had 
ever  before  been  in  his  life.  Blethers  had  left  the 
camp,  his  friends  saying  that  he  had  gone  down  to 
San  Francisco  on  important  business.  But  the  ab- 
sence of  Blethers  had  worked  no  perceptible  injury 
to  the  general  business. 


168  SAN  D. 

The  men  arid  all  parties  directly  concerned  found 
an  acting  head  to  affairs,  also  a  prompt  paymaster, 
and  they  did  not  much  trouble  themselves  as  to  the 
rank  and  title  of  that  head.  They  also  found  that  the 
clerk  was  everywhere,  always  respectful,  constantly 
civil,  but  always  driving.  With  "  Cussin'Jack"  and 
Fitzgibbon  he  ransacked,  measured,  and  mapped  every 
accessible  inch  of  the  mine,  and  wrote  out,  from  notes 
taken  among  the  men,  the  history  of  all  portions 
which,  from  various  well-known  causes,  were  no 
longer  accessible.  Late  into  the  night  the  shifting 
men,  going  to  and  coming  from  the  mine,  saw,  through 
the  office  window,  the  clerk's  head  under  his  lamp- 
shade, and  they  said  to  each  other:  "  He's  a  worker." 

The  batteries  in  the  mill  still  kept  up  their  roar 
by  day  and  night;  the  engine  in  the  mill  whistled 
the  hours  on  and  off;  the  other  engine  at  the  mine 
further  up  the  canon  piped  the  calls  back  again  in 
shriller  tones,  and  the  music  of  industry  knew  no 
cessation  amid  the  surrounding  solitude  of  the  hills. 
The  men  still  made  merry  or  quarreled,  or  philoso- 
phized in  their  odd  ways  at  the  saloons. 

"  Well,  lads,"  said  u  Cussin'  Jack,"  over  his  beer, 
u  Blethers  be  gone,  an'  t'  world  still  goes  round." 

"  1  hain't  felt  no  yethquake,  nor  seed  no  shower  of 
stars,"  remarked  a  gentleman,  who,  with  others,  was 
playing  a  careful  social  card-game  near  by. 

"  Oh, play  yer  ace,  and  never  mind  about  the  stars! 
If  you  don't  stop  trying  to  make  friends  with  Ram- 
sey's dog,  you'll  see  stars  enough." 


SAND.  169 

"  If  I  was  Riimsey  and  had  as  purty  a  daughter  as 
he  has  in  this  camp  of  old  stags,  I'd  hire  a  mountain 
lion  arid  go  to  hatching  rattle-snakes." 

"  You  tellers  needn't  mind  about  me  and  Rumsey's 
dog,  for  Shakspeare  sez:  4  Love  me  love  my  dog.'  It's 
my  pitch." 

"  I  tell  yo'  wot — it's  a  'nndred  thousan'  dollars  i' 
company's  powkit,  getten  rid  o'  Blethers." 

"Blethers  never  made  no  big  thing  out  of  this 
mine." 

"Damn  it,playj — stop  yerchinnin'!  Git  it  printed 
—git  it  printed!" 

"  I  dunnot  say  ee  did  make  a  big  thing  out  o'  this 
moine.  It's  that  as  ee  didn't  get,  an'  wot's  forth- 
coming as  I  allewds  to.  Ee  'adn't  the  yead  for  this 
bizens.  So  long  as  t'  moine  was  a  prospec',  ee  did 
well  enow.  That's  all  ee's  good  for;  but  this  clerk 
chap  is  'igher  up  i'  the  figgers." 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  new  broom  sweeps  clean." 

"  Theer  was  need  o'  a  bit  o'  clean  sweepin'  'ere- 
abonts;  an'  it's  bread  an'  meat  an'  money  in  ivvera 
moil's  powkit  that  we  be  now  but  getten  it  done." 

"  I  don't  wTant  any  bread  and  meat  in  my  pocket. 
Play,  Jim." 

And  though  these  random  sayings  came  in  cramp, 
careless  expression  from  various  persons  in  Jack's 
immediate  neighborhood,  the  general  assembly  was 
nearly  of  one  mind  in  endorsing  the  approa«h  to 
truth  in  his  remarks.  The  apparent  half-hostility  to 
his  speeches  arose  from  the  fact  that  while  he  took  no 


170  SAND. 

interest  in  cards  and  a  deep  interest  in  conversation, 
his  auditors  were  just  the  other  way;  and  when  they 
were  playing,  or  watching  the  play,  they  had  but  lit- 
tle mind  for  anything  else.  Which  should  lead  a 
moralist  to  remark  that  no  external  action  dries  up 
the  spontaneity  of  the  human  intellect  like  a  frequent 
recurrence  to  social  card-playing.  The  professional 
gambler,  who  works  at  the  card-table  in  cold  blood, 
calculating  for  a  livelihood,  has  an  alert,  active  brain; 
but  the  social  devotee  becomes  like  a  hen  sitting  on 
an  addled  nest,  good  for  nothing  but  to  squawk 
out  and  peck  at  all  who  disturb  the  useless  incuba- 
tion. 

u  Well,  lads,"  said  Jack,  good  humoredly,  when  he 
had  finished  his  beer,  "go  on  wi'  paiste-board  thurnpin'. 
I  be  goin'  whoam  to  bed." 

"  Remember  me  in  your  prayers,  Jack." 

"  An'  chuck  in  an  extry  'jackelation  fer  me." 

"  All  right,  lads.  There's  been  a  deal  better  prayin' 
done  for  most  on  yo'  than  I  ivver  can  do,  by  them  as 
loved  yo'  nex'  hand  to  God  Almoighty,"  and  Jack 
passed  out  of  the  saloon. 

There  was  nothing  more  said  among  the  card-play- 
ers at  the  tables,  near  where  Jack  had  sat,  for  some 
time  after  his  departure,  till,  at  length,  one  of  the 
players,  as  he  shuffled  the  cards,  looking  around  the 
circle,  remarked: 

"  That  was  a  heavy  shot  the  old  boy  got  off  as  he 
went  out." 

"  Oh,  he's  right  dead  on  it!     Pie's  a  faithful  foi- 


SAND  171 

lower  of  the  Meek  and  Lowly,  and  he  means  it. 
Didn't  you  never  hear  him  preach?" 

"No." 

"  He's  a  purty  good  coarse-handed  preacher." 

"  An'  he  don't  preach  much  hell,  nuther.  Mostly 
muscy  an'  squar'  deal  in'  and  good  behavior." 

"  Jeverhear  him  preach  a  funeral?" 

"  No,  never  did." 

"  Well,  ye  jist  ort  to.  He's  a  damn  big  feelin'  man, 
ye  know,  and  he  cries  like  a  son  of  a  gun  when  he  gits 
down  to  his  Scriptur'  alongside  of  a  coffin.  Why,  he 
made  Tony  Maguire  cry,  time  we  buried  Jim  Peters. 
Didn't  he,  Tony?" 

uOch!  wher'  'er  ye  drivin  to?  Ask  leave  to  print 
the  rest  of  it,  and  go  on  with  your  game,"  responded 
Tony  from  behind  the  bar,  where,  in  a  lull  of  alcoholic 
amusement,  he  was  absorbing  the  contents  of  a  San 
Francisco  newspaper. 

It  may  be  remarked  here  that  exemplary  piety  and 
moderate  alcoholic  potations  are  not  considered  incom- 
patible in  clerical  life  on  the  west  coast  of  England — 
particularly  in  the  mining  regions  of  that  coast.  Also, 
that  professional  goodness  goes  for  nothing — abso- 
lutely for  nothing — among  the  silver-miners.  Silver- 
tongued  oratory  is  too  plentiful  in  that  region  to  be 
esteemed  much  beyond  its  actual  worth.  What  has 
he  done — what  can  he  do?  is  the  only  test  question 
in  that  region.  Unless  a  man  assumes  to  be  rich — 
and  the  immediate  question  then  is:  "  What's  he  gotf" 
And  whatever  it  is  that  he  has,  if  he  don't  look  sharp, 
he  will  not  have  it  long. 


172  SAND. 

While  the  change  in  the  administration  of  the  mine 
was  going  forward,  and  was  being  discussed  in  the 
camp,  the  quiet  young  man,  whose  head  and  brain 
were  at  the  bottom  of  this  change,  was  a  very  busy  as 
well  as  a  very  wary  person.  For,  though  the  chief 
impediment  was  out  of  his  way,  there  was  still  a 
remnant  of  discontent.  And  this  discontented  rem- 
nant was  busy,  with  tongue  and  pen,  ingeniously 
striving  to  show  a  reason  for  expected  failure,  while 
hoping  for  some  accident,  either  to  the  mine  itself,  or 
to  the  accompanying  works.  But,  inasmuch  as  "  For- 
tune favors  the  brave,"  and  success  is  synonymous 
with  "  sand,"  no  such  accident  occurred.  The  busi- 
ness ran  smoothly  and  successfully  under  the  man- 
agement of  the  young  man,  until  one  snowy  evening, 
when  the  cry  of  "  Stage!  stage!"  which  always  echoes 
in  an  outlying  mining  camp  upon  the  arrival  of  that 
important  vehicle,  heralded  the  coming  of  another 
young  man,  who,  upon  his  arrival  in  the  office  of  the 
company,  handed  to  Norman  May  dole,  Jr.,  a  brief 
epistle,  the  contents  of  which  were  substantially  as 
follows : 

"  This  will  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Martin  Rossine,  a  competent 
book-keeper " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Rossine — pleased  to  meet 
you,"  said  Norman,  glancing  from  the  letter  and  ex- 
tending his  hand — "have  a  seat,"  then  he  read  on: 

<4  Make  such  arrangement  with  him  about  the  books  and  business, 
immediately  after  pay-day,  as  may  be  necessary  to  carry  him  along 
until  the  following  pay-day.  Then,  after  doing  among  the  men 
whatever  you  may  judge  best  to  regulate  the  working  in  your 


SAND  173 

absence,  gather  together  your  maps,  papers,  vouchers,  etc.,  and 
come  to  the  city,  prepared  to  give  a  strong  account  o.f  your  stew- 
ardship. Make  haste  slowly,  but  do  not  delay.  There  is  no- 
cause  of  alarm.  All  well  at  home. 

"Yours, 

HOLTEN." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Holten,  coming  into  Colonel 
Holten's  "den,"  where  her  liege  lord  was  writing  at 
his  desk,  "  I  have  a  very  interesting  letter  from  young 
Mr.  Maydole." 

"  TJmh!  So  have  I.  Maydole  writes  letters  of  in- 
terest to  several  people." 

u  Why,  is  his  correspondence  so  large?" 

u  Perhaps  not.  It  is  not  the  largeness  of  it,  but 
there  is  money  in  it — money  in  it,  my  lady,  more 
power  to  him.  I  have  hardly  time  to  talk  about  it 
now,  though,  if  you  please." 

"  Oh!  Your  old  letters  refer  to  business,  but  mine 
is  such  an  easy,  cheerful,  sensible,  family  kind  of  a 
letter  that  I  want  you  to  read  it  right  now." 

"  Well,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  pushing  aside  his 
papers,  "  let  me  see  the  document." 

"  For  so  young  a  man,"  said  Mrs.  Holten,  as  she 
passed  the  letter  over,  u  he  writes  a  very  considerate, 
home-like  letter,  and  not  a  bit  of  mannerism  in  it. 
It  is  simply  original  or — or — oh,  what  do  you  call 
it  ? — spontaneous." 

"Ah,  well!  That's  nothing — he  inherits  it.  His 
father  is  a  famous  private  correspondent,"  he  said, 
bending  his  brow  to  Norman's  chirography. 

"  Read  aloud,"  said  she,  and  she  sat  down  in  a  chair 
at  the  end  of  the  desk. 

174 


SAND.  175 

Colonel  Holten  read  the  letter,  smiling  anon  with 
that  lifting  and  lowering  of  the  brows  common  to 
men  who  sit  in  judgment  on  another's  manuscript. 

"  Rather  a  long  epistle,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  it 
back  to  her. 

"  I  wish  it  were  twice  as  long,"  she  said.  "But 
don't  you  think  it  is  a  nice  letter? — a  gentle  letter?" 

u  Oh>  he  is  a  very  gentle,  not  to  say  lamb-like,  per- 
son— that  young  Mr.  Maydole,"  and  here  Colonel 
Holten  laughed  aloud,  as  a  man  often  does,  at  the  far- 
reaching  sagacity  of  his  humor.  "  There  are  some 
discriminating  observations  contained  therein.  They 
are  true,  too,  I  believe;  and  the  picture  of  the  lizard 
is  artistically  juvenile." 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?"  said  Mrs.  Holten, 
good-naturedly,  as  she  arose  to  go. 

"'  Wait  one  moment,"  said  her  husband,  selecting  a 
sheet  of  fold-marked  manuscript  from  off  his  desk; 
"  I  want  to  read  you  from  Mr.  Maydole's  most  inter- 
esting style."  Then  lie  read: 

" '  Please  call  the  attention  of  your  co-owners  to  the  slightly 
improved  yield  of  this  month  over  last;  also,  the  shrinkage  in 
expenditure.' 

Now  one  more  extract  which  I  call  deeply  absorbing 
to  the  general  reader,  to  wit: 

"  '  I  have  made  a  careful  and  minute  preliminary  survey  of  the 
mine.  I  can  not  promise  any  sudden  "bonanza,"  but  unless  we 
strike  some  unlooked-for  barrenness,  I  think  I  may  intimate  a 
gradual  improvement.' 

That,"  added  Colonel  Holten,  "has  something  in  it. 
The  style  is  good,  and  the  stuff  is  better." 


176  SAND. 

"  It  is  not  near  so  good  a  letter  as  mine,"  said  Mrs. 
Hol.ten,  going. 

"Adioa!"  he  said,  laughing.  Then  he  quickly 
added,  as  she  reached  the  door,  "  I  opine  we  shall  see 
the  young  man  ere  long." 

"  Shall  we?     I  am  pleased  to  hear  it." 

"  Yes;  we  want  him  to  report  in  person  to  a  Com- 
mittee of  the  Whole  on  Mines  and  Mining.  He  has- 
fought  a  good  fight,  anyway,  and  deserves  a  short 
season  of  recreation." 

Mrs.  Hoi  ten  being  gone,  the  Colonel  bent  himself 
to  his  constant  task,  and  silence  reigned  about  him 
until  a.  rap  at  his  door,  followed  by  his  usual  loud 
"  Come  in,"  introduced  a  boy  in  half-uniform,  having 
in  one  hand  a  characteristic  cap,  and  in  his  other  a 
book  and  pencil.  This  youth,  as  he  approached  Col- 
onel Holten,  wedged  the  cap  close  under  his  arm,  and 
presented  the  open  book  and  a  sealed  letter  envelope 
to  the  Colonel,  bowed,  smiled,  looked  bright,  and  said 
nothing.  Colonel  Holten  took  the  envelope,  looked 
at  the  address,  signed  his  name  in  the  boy's  book:, 
then,  tearing  the  envelope  open,  he  glanced  over  it 
and  said  as  he  did  so,  "  No  answer,  my  son ;"  where- 
upon the  youth  put  the  book  up  under  his  arm  as  a 
substitute  for  the  cap,  which  latter  he  now  held  in 
his  hand  as  he  bowed,  smiled,  looked  bright,  said 
nothing,  and  went  his  way,  softly  closing  the  door 
after  him. 

"  U'-hum!"  exclaimed  the  Colonel  in  that  decisive 
sort  of  nasal  grunt  which  no  dialectician  can  properly 


SAND.  177 

spell  on  paper.  "He  starts  to-day,  eh!  Le's  see! 
That  ought  to  bring  him  here  by  day  after  to-rnorrow, 
or  by  the  day  following,  at  farthest — that  is,  if  he  is 
not  delayed  by  the  snow  or  other  accident."  Then 
he  sat  for  some  moments  at  his  desk,  idly  beating  the 
air  with  his  lead-pencil,  as  though  marking  time  to 
some  semi-unconscious  tune  in  his  memory,  which 
tune  must  have  made  him  famous  for  its  eccentricities, 
if  the  atmosphere  could  have  photographed  the  score 
as  he  rendered  it.  At  last,  giving  his  pencil  one 
grand,  half- circular,  waving  flourish,  he  arose  actively 
to  his  feet,  filliped  the  pencil  upon  the  desk,  put  his 
eye-glasses  into  his  vest  pocket,  donned  his  hat,  and 
said,  as  he  pushed  some  papers  into  a  pigeon-hole, 
44  I'll  give  the  boy  a  chance.  It  will  do  him  good." 
Then  he  went  out  by  the  side-street  door.  He  had 
but  just  gone,  when  his  eldest  daughter  first  knocked 
at  the  hall-side  door,  then  pushed  it  softly  open  for 
fear  of  disturbing  her  father,  but  finding  that  he  had 
gone  out,  and  knowing  of  the  visit  of  the  telegraph 
messenger,  she  stood  at  the  open  door  with  the  knob 
in  her  hand,  looked  about  her  in  a  disappointed  kind 
of  way,  and  then  softly  approaching  his  desk  she  saw 
the  open  telegram  lying  upon  it,  and  picked  it  up. 
This  little  piece  of  paper,  with  its  few  words,  had  an 
effect  upon  her  in  no  way  consistent  with  the  dry 
matter  of  business  language  it  contained.  She  bright- 
ened up,  losing  at  once  the  disappointed  look  which 
was  upon  her  face.  She  read  the  paper  very  carefully, 
turned  it  over  in  her  hand  and  looked  at  the  back  of 
12 


SAND. 

it,  laid  it  down  upon  the  desk,  and  then  taking  up  the 
envelope  in  which  it  had  probably  come,  she  read 
what  was  on  that,  compressed  it  apart,  looked  into  it 
and  laid  it  down  on  the  desk,  then  quietly  walked 
from  the  room. 

At  dinner,  that  same  day,  Colonel  Holten  announced 
to  his  family  assemblage  that  young  Mr.  Maydole 
might  be  expected  "any  day  after  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  goody-good-good!"  drawled  the  youngest 
member,  with  unusual  animation  for  her.  "  He'll  tell 
us  some  more  about  the  funny  little  lizards." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  him,  indeed,"  said 
madam. 

"  I  am  sorry  Alice  is  not  here  to  entertain  him 
when  he  comes,"  said  Judith,  very  quietly. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Colonel  Holten,  with  a  dry  smile 
which  was  not  at  all  lost  in  his  beard,  "  I  hope  wre  can 
make  out  to  entertain  one  young  man  without  assist- 
ance from  abroad." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  can,"  said  Judith,  carelessly;  "but 
Mr.  Maydole  only  talks  of  one  subject  at  a  time.  He 
is  not  a  society  talker;  he  can  not  skip  and  catch  and 
go  on  without  any  connection  to  his  ideas.  He  is  a 
perfect  listener,  though,  and  Alice  used  to  lecture  to 
him  nicely.  But  I  can  not  lecture — have  no  power 
at  monologue;  and  you  have  talked  to  mother  so 
much  and  for  so  long  that  she  is  a  professional  audi- 
ence." 

"  Well,  my  child,"  and  the  old  dry  smile  was  again 
in  his  beard,  "you  will  have  to  worry  through  it  some- 
how." 


6AND.  179 

Wise  old  father!  Prudent  daughter!  Who  shall 
say  how  far  their  ideas  were  apart?  The  young  think 
the  old  do  not  see  because  they  fail  to  say;  the  old 
sayings  of  the  young  are  most  transparent. 

Matters  moved  on  in  and  about  the  Holten  house, 
from  day  to  day,  in  their  usual  routine,  varied  now 
and  again  by  participation  in  the  winter  gayeties — for 
the  weeping  time  of  Nature  was  now  upon  the  land. 
The  rains  roared  upon  the  house-roofs,  drove  through 
the  streets  of  cities  and  along  the  rural  lanes,  gurgled 
from  spoutings  and  pooled  in  the  street,  made  grass- 
mottled  ponds  in  far-away  pastures,  dripped  from 
tangle-boughed  woods,  drifted  slantingly  across  open 
plains,  and  at  last,  far  up  in  the  solitudes,  turned  to 
the  steady  silent  fall  of  woodland  snow  as  it  reached 
and  rested  its  main  forces  upon  the  summits  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada — sending  only  reconnoitering  parties 
down  the  other  side  horsed  on  the  wild  winds  of  the 
Sage-brush  Land.  It  is  hard,  without  the  experience, 
to  realize  the  contrast  of  scenery  and  climate  to  be 
found  in  twenty-four  hours  of  rail  ride  from  San 
Francisco  eastward  in  winter  season.  It  is  a  transfer 
from  flower  gardens  of  the  temperate  climes,  in  full 
bloom,  to  fields  of  ice  crystals,  in  full  glitter. 

Young  Mr.  Maydole,  dropping  down  from  the 
stage-coach  top,  muffled  and  buttoned  from  chin  to 
toe  in  that  blanket-built  recent  ancestor  of  the  now 
awful  ulster  —  commonly  known  as  the  "  Washoe 
duster" — with  a  stout  brown  blanket  on  his  arm, 
entered  the  railroad  station  in  the  desert  to  await  the 


ISO  SAN  D. 

coming  train.  Teams  from  seldom  viewed,  almost 
undiscoverable  nooks  in  the  distant  surrounding 
mountains  come  tracking  from  afar  across  the  white 
waste  of  the  snow-covered  land.  Horses  with  noses 
bristling  with  a  wealth  of  delicate  ice-lace,  and  tails 
alive  with  electric  thrills,  looked  wildly  askance  at 
lounging  ragged  Indians.  Masterful  men,  with  keen, 
quick  eves  and  icy  beards,  tramped  the  platform  of 
the  station,  spat  long  tobacco  stains  upon  the  clean 
white  snow,  knocked  the  dirty  ice-knobs  from  their 
nail-clad  boot-heels,  and  swore  at  the  weather  as  if  it 
were  a  personal  power,  capable  of  being  insulted  and 
brought  to  combat.  In  this  chilly  scene  Mr.  May- 
dole  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  train  came  gliding 
up  to  the  station  like  a  frantic  lost  spirit  of  civiliza- 
tion, scared  into  a  tremor  by  the  ghostly  white  silence 
of  the  winter-clad  desert. 

"  All  aboard!"  There  is  a  perceptible  bustle.  The 
brakemen  dance  upon  the  platforms  of  the  cars,  the 
breath  of  the  engine-man  floats  white  away  from  his 
lips,  while  his  iron  horse  coughs  beneath  him  in  a 
metallic  epizootic  kind  of  way,  and  the  whole  train 
glides  out  of  sight  and  beyond  hearing  like  the 
materialized  spirit  of  the  mirage. 

Along  the  bare  plain  the  ringing  rhythm  of  iron 
upon  steel  keeps  up  the  glib  clip-clap-clatter,  clip- 
clap-clatter  of  its  constant  tune,  until  the  night  comes 
down  dark  and  threatening  as  the  train  arranges, 
among  glancing  lights,  to  climb  the  Sierra.  In  the 
snow,  that  deepens  under  the  night  that  darkens,  the 


SAND.  181 

climb  begins.  Not  one  iron  horse  now,  but  two — 
sometimes  more  than  two.  There  is  here  no  desert. 
The  dark  pines  loom  loftily  and  dimly  above  the 
white  snow,  as  if  listening  to  the  talk  of  the  engines. 

"  Whoooooo — oop!  Are  you  ready?"  says  the  fore 
to  the  aft  engine. 

"  Who-o-op!     All  ready,"  says  the  aft. 


"  Away  we  go,  then." 


"  Go  it  is." 

Thus,  all  night  long  the  iron  monsters  talk  to  each 
other  on  the  icy  altitudes  among  the  listening  pines. 

"  Whoop  her  up  a  little,"  says  the  fore  engine. 

"  All  right,"  says  the  aft. 

"  Yip-yip-yip-yip,  ye-e-e-e-e-eep !  .  Hed  light  ahead 
—down  brakes!" 

"Aye,  aye!" 

"  Come  ahead  again — gently!" 

*'  All  right,  I  hear  you." 

"  Snow-shed!" 

"  Just  so." 

"  Whoop  her  up  again." 

"  Correct!" 

Thus  the  dialogue  of  iron  industry  goes  on  the 
whole  night  long.  The  comfortable  passenger  in  the 
elegant  sleeping  apartment  hears  it  in  his  dreams; 
the  emigrant,  curled  up  and  cramped  in  his  car-seat, 
hears  it  through  the  dry  chill  that  has  permeated  his 
bones,  and  ever  and  anon  he  flattens  his  nose  against 
the  window  glass  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  look  out,  only 
to  find  his  eye  gazing  into  a  reflection  of  the  car  he 


182  SAND. 

occupies.  But  by  and  by,  just  ere  the  first  dawn  of 
day,  the  passengers,  both  emigrant  arid  first  class, 
feel  a  change.  The  chill  is  passing  out  of  them. 
The  car-wheels  are  less  noisy.  The  dialogue  between 
the  engines  has  now  very  long  pauses.  The  passen- 
ger, abed  in  the  sleeping-car,  punches  the  pillow 
under  the  side  of  his  head,  snuggles  down  to  his  bus- 
iness, and  goes  sound  asleep.  The  emigrant,  in  the 
plain  car-seat,  uncoils  himself,  stretches  his  feet  out 
into  any  open  space  he  can  find,  turns  his  face  to  the 
ceiling  of  the  car,  and  lets  the  traveling  world  know 
that  he  has  a  good  nose  for  music.  His  tired  and 
far-traveled  wife,  if  he  has  one,  leans  over  against  his 
Sleeping  shoulder  and  pipes  a  feeble  alto  to  his  power- 
ful bass,  until,  long  after  sunrise,  the  brakemen,  shout- 
ing through  the  cars,  announce: 

"  Twenty  minutes  for  breakfast." 

"  Law  me,"  says  emigrant  madam,  after  accom- 
panying her  husband  on  the  nose-organ  for  at  least 
two  hours  and  a  half,  "  I  was  jist  a-goin'  to  go  to 
sleep."  Then  glancing  out  of  the  window  of  the  car 
she  suddenly  grips  the  shoulder  beside  her,  and  says, 
"  John !  John !  Do  look,  the  snow  is  gone,  the  grass 
is  green,  and,  well!  I'll  declare  if  them  ain't  frogs 
a-hollerinV 

"  Well,  I  tole  ye  they  didn't  hev  no  winter  in  Cal- 
iforny,"  says  John,  as  he  rubs  his  eyes  and  gathers  in 
his  legs. 

The  effect  of  this  change  of  climate  upon  Mr. 
Maydole,  Jr.,  was  exceedingly  pleasant.  His  power- 


SAND.  183 

ful  lungs,  expanded  by  the  thin  air  of  the  altitudes, 
reveled  in  the  softening  atmosphere.  The  wiry  elec- 
tric metalism  of  the  upper  regions  passed  out  of  him, 
leaving  his  powers  luxuriously  relaxed  from  their 
recent  high-strung  pitch,  and  he  proceeded  on  his 
way  to  tide-water  in  a  comfortable  mood.  At  the 
old  ferry  landing  his  long  blanket  over-coat,  which 
he  had  not  yet  taken  the  thought  to  throw  off,  brought 
about  him  the  whole  horrible  troop  of  barking  wolves 
from  hotel,  hack,  etc.;  but  as  he  had  that  look  in  his 
eyes  which  the  impudence  of  the  "  runner "  and 
bummer  knows  well  enough  not  to  trifle  long  with, 
they  soon  let  him  pass  in  his  own  way.  The  evening 
brought  him  to  the  door  of  that  house  which  had 
become  to  him  the  most  important  of  all  earthly 
mansions.  When  he  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
the  family  he  was  warmly  welcomed. 

"  How  brown  arid  strong  you  do  look,"  said 
madam. 

"  You  are  thinner — rather — than  when  you  left  us," 
said  Judith. 

"The  high  altitudes  have  a  desiccating  effect,"  he 
said,  with  respectful  gayety. 

"  And  you  have  been  exercising  violently,  I  im- 
agine," added  madam. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said;  "but  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have 
had  much  more  than  my  usual  average  of  muscular 
exertion.  I  have  always  been  a  worker  of  some  kind." 

After  the  family  had  had  their  general  say  of  him, 
he  was  led  away  by  Colonel  Holten. 


1 8'4r  SAN  D. 

"  Now,  Mr.  May  dole,"  said  the  Colonel,  when  the 
two  were  seated  in  his  business  room,  "this  is  urgent 
business.  Can  you  make  a  speech?" 

"To  a  public  audience?"  inquired  Norman. 

"  Yes — public,  in  so  far  as  a  meeting  of  stock- 
holders may  be  so  called." 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  have  seen  and  heard  a  vast 
amount  of  speech-making  in  court  and  on  the  politi- 
cal stump,  but  I  have  never  tried  to  talk  in  public  to 
an  audience;  yet,  if  it  must  be  done,  I  can  try." 

"  Very  good,  very  good!  I  have  had  a  meeting  of 
the  stockholders  called,  and  I  think  a  full  verbal  re- 
port, backed  by  a  written  statement,  will  be  more 
effective  than  anything  else." 

;'Then,  it  is  about  the  mine — what  I  know  about 
the  business?  It  is  upon  that  subject  you  wish  me 
to  make  a  speech?" 

"  Precisely." 

"Oh,  well,  as  to  that,"  said  Norman,  laughing,  "I 
think  I  could  make  a  speech  on  that  subject  instantly 
if  waked  out  of  a  sound  sleep.  I  will  not  promise 
any  oratory." 

"  Don't  want  any  oratory." 

"  All  right;  I  will  try  it.  Have  you  any  sugges- 
tions to  make  as  to  matter  or  manner?" 

"  No.  Tell  the  truth.  Speak  slowly  and  distinctly. 
Once  on  the  floor  never  mind  about  your  audience; 
your  hearers  will  come  to  you  when  you  come  to  the 
merits  of  your  case.  They  always  do  to  any  speaker 
who  modestly  and  earnestly  tells  the  honest  truth." 


S  A  N  I).  185 

"  How  many  days  can  I  have  to  get  ready?" 

u  Four." 

u  Very  gooa,  sir.  I  will  go  about  the  preparation 
at  once." 

During  the  ensuing  four  days  Norman  enlarged 
and  colored  his  maps  of  the  mine,  so  that  the  lines 
on  them  could  be  plainly  seen  across  a  large  room. 
Then  he  planned  an  accurate  histoVy  of  the  mine, 
from  the  time  the  original  prospector  uncovered  its 
ancient  head  among  the  outcroppings  in  the  sage- 
brush, to  which  he  added  a  tabulated  statement  of 
all  the  workings,  yieldings  and  expenditures.  And 
when  this  task  was  finished,  he  tried  to  picture  in  his 
imagination  how  he  should  look  and  act  before  an 
audience,  all  of  whom  he  believed  to  be  critical  in 
such  matters,  and  some  of  whom  he  knew  to  be  hos- 
tile to  himself  and  his  friends;  but  this  attempt  at 
imagination  he  gave  up  as  beyond  his  powers,  and 
concluded  to  stay  mainly  with  the  hard  facts  and  let 
his  manner  take  care  of  itself.  The  day  of  meeting 
of  stockholders  arrived,  and,  as  the  hour  of  its  session 
approached,  our  hero  tried  to  recollect  and  bring 
before  his  mind  in  one  instant  all  that  he  knew  about 
the  subject  at  issue,  and  was  somewhat  alarmed  to 
find  that  his  intellect  failed  to  make  any  such  re- 
sponse, and  that  all  he  had  planned  and  intended  to 
say  amounted  only  to  these  words: 

14  Gentlemen:  As  I  have  never  been  placed  in  a 
position  such  as  I  now  occupy,  you  will  bear  with  me 
and  pardon  me  if  in  the  presentation  of  facts  I  fail  ty 


186  SAND. 

put  them  in  a  manner  at  once  pleasing  and  plausible." 
To  this  paragraph  he  clung  with  the  desperation 
of  one  who  believes  he  is  about  to  drown.  He  kept 
it  in  constant  repetition  through  his  mind,  but  when 
lie  was  called  up  to  make  his  report  he  was  astounded 
to  find  that  this  paragraph  also  had  faded  out  of 
memory,  until  nothing  was  left  of  it  but  the  one  word, 
'*  Gentlemen."  He  took  up  his  maps  and  papers, 
when  called  upon,  and  went  to  his  place  before  the 
astute  audience,  feeling  a  greater  need  of  a  large  sup- 
ply of  sand  than  ever  before  had  occurred  to  him. 
He  unrolled  his  papers  on  the  desk  in  unconscious 
imitation  of  the  lawyers  he  had  seen  in  the  country- 
court  rooms  where  his  father  reigned  as  clerk.  Lift- 
ing up  his  eyes  he  managed  to  say,  "  Gentlemen " 

but  the  severe  eyes  of  the  astute  world's-men,  which 
were  collectively  upon  him,  almost  appalled  him.  But, 
seeing  among  the  gray  and  bald  heads,  one  younger 
head,  the  face  of  which  seemed  to  enjoy  his  embar- 
rassment, he  immediately  became  internally  hostile, 
and  started  off  on  his  report  as  follows: 

"  The  property  with  which  I  am  now  connected  as 
clerk  has  a  history,  and  I  propose  first  to  give  you 
the  history  as  a  whole,  and  then  the  important  figures 
in  detail.  Let  me  have  your  attention,  if  you  please, 
while  I  relate  to  you  the  history  of  the  mine  from 
the  beginning,  so  that,  when  I  shall  point  out  facts 
now  vital  to  its  proper  management,  we  may  mutu- 
ally understand  how  arid  why  these  facts  came  to  be 
facts." 


SAND.  187 

By  the  time  he  had  uttered  these  words  his  blood 
began  to  flow  where  it  was  most  needed,  and  the  nat- 
ural stimulus  quickened  his  brain  and  brought  back 
to  his  mind  all  that  he  had  lost  of  his  carefully  pre- 
pared report.  The  honest  working  of  his  own  mind, 
as  it  intelligently  handled  the  (to  him)  familiar  mat- 
ters with  which  he  was  dealing,  soon  drew  the  minds 
of  his  hearers  into  the  same  channel.  The  attention 
became  riveted  upon  him  as  he  threw  the  light  of 
honest,  thorough  investigation  into  the  dark  places 
of  the  business  management.  He  was  no  longer  the 
young  man  making  a  speech  —  he  was  the  careful, 
conscientious  man  of  business  (no  matter  about  his 
youth  now)  crushing  with  the  hard  logic  of  well  ascer- 
tained facts  the  ingeniously  constructed  plausibility 
of  palpable  falsehood.  When  he  had  finished  his 
report  and  submitted  his  figures,  he  said: 

"  I  shall  now  answer  any  question  regarding  the 
mine  or  my  connection  with  it." 

"  Didn't  you  contrive  to  get  up  a  quarrel  in  the 
camp  with  Mr.  Blethers,  the  superintendent?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"Did  you  not  have  a  fight  with  him  in  the  office?" 

"  Yes  sir." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  questioner,  with  a  tri- 
umphant, sarcastic  smile. 

"What  did  you  fight  about?"  asked  another  stock- 
holder. 

"  Mr.  Blethers  made  indecent  allusion  to  my  extrac- 
tion and  to  rny  ancestors,  whereupon  I  told  him  he 


188  SAND. 

was  a  bully,  and  I  thought  he  was  a  coward;  at  which 
he  sought  to  collar  me,  and — well,  we  had  a  litile 
fight.  That's  the  amount  of  it." 

"  Would  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  us  what,  in 
your  opinion,  caused  the  foreman  to  use  this  language 
to  you?  Or  do  you  know?" 

"  I  know  very  well.  He  wanted  me  to  act,  through 
my  position  as  clerk  of  the  mine,  so  that  his  outside 
friends  could  use  me  as  a  standing  voluntary  garnishee 
in  the  forcible  collection  of  their  debts.  I  refused  to 
do  it." 

"And  you  did  quite  right,  my  boy!"  emphatically 
ejaculated  a  gray-haired  sire  of  the  stock  market. 

When  he  had  been  questioned  by  various  parties 
upon  almost  every  point  of  his  connection  with  the 
business,  he  offered  his  written  -report  and  left  the 
stand,  and,  somewhat  to  his  embarrassment,  found 
himself  shaking  hands  writh  men  whom  he  did  not 
personally  know,  who  offered  him  congratulatory 
speeches.  As  he  recovered  from  his  absorbing  atten- 
tion to  the  business  in  hand,  he  looked  about  for  the 
face  of  his  patron,  and,  not  finding  it  in  the  room,  he 
then  remembered  that  he  had  not  seen  that  face  in  the 
house  since  he  took  his  place  in  front  of  his  audience. 

"We  have  heard  the  report,"  said  the  chairman; 
"what  shall  we  do  with  it?" 

"  I  move  that  it  be  received,  and  that  the  mine  man- 
agers be  requested  to  appoint  Mr.  Maydole  superin- 
tendent, with  full  power  to  manage  the  mine  to  the 
best  of  his  judgment  for  the  interest  of  all  parties 


SAND.  189 

concerned,"  said  a  heavy  stockholder.  The  motion 
was  seconded.  Then  it  was  that  Norman  noticed 
Colonel  Holten  on  the  floor,  and  was  not  a  little  puz- 
zled to  hear  him  say: 

"  Before  that  motion  is  put,  I  desire  to  say  it  may 
not  be  convenient  for  Mr.  Maydole  to  accept  the 
position,  as  I  am  informed,  though  I  have  not  been 
present  during  the  offering  of  his  report,  that  he  has 
here  to-day  shown  himself  worth  a  better  place.  I 
would  therefore  amend  the  motion  by  striking  out  all 
suggestion  to  the  managers,  leaving  it  to  read  simply 
as  an  acceptance  of  the  report." 

The  maker  of  the  motion  accepting  the  Colonel's 
amendment,  the  motion  was  put  and  carried,  and  the 
meeting  adjourned. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Maydole?"  asked  Mrs.  Holten  of 
her  husband,  as  they  sat  down  to  dinner  at  home. 

"After  his  speech,  to-day,  the  most  stubborn  stock- 
holder in  the  opposition  carried  him  off  to  dinner." 

"Why,  did  he  make  a  speech?"  asked  madam. 

"He  did  so;  and  a  good  one,  too." 

''Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  The  poor  boy  has  to 
do  all  sorts  of  difficult  things." 

Colonel  Holten  laughed  aloud. 

"  I  do  believe  you  take  delight  in  getting  that  poor 
boy  into  trouble." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  the  Colonel,  still  laughing;  "but 
I  take  more  delight  in  getting  him  out  again;  though, 
fortunately  for  me,  he  does  not  need  much  assistance. 
He  is  one  whom  the  Lord  helps — because  he  helps 
lumself." 


190  SAND. 

"Did  Mr.  Maydole  ever  before  make  a  speqqh!" 
asked  Judith. 

"  He  says  not,"  answered  the  father. 

"What  did  lie  say?"  asked  Judith. 
•  "  I  do  not  know,  save  from  report.  I  did  not  hear 
the  speech,  but  he  said  enough  to  fully  answer  the 
purpose — and  that  is  true  oratory.  Its  effect  must 
have  been  amusing  to  several  of  those  who  witnessed 
it.  Our  greatest  trouble,"  continued  the  Colonel,  as 
he  went  on,  paying  marked  attention  to  the  contents 
of  his  dinner  plate,  "our  greatest  trouble  in  this  busi- 
ness has  been  a  heavy  stockholder — an  old  man,  who 
in  early  times  was  a  popular  saloon-keeper  and  a  prize- 
fighting umpire  or  referee.  This  person  has  been 
always  on  the  side  of  the  man  called  Blethers,  partly 
because  of  Blethers'  presumed  prowess  in  personal 
combat.  The  career  of  Blethers  has  been  checked 
rather  peremtorily  by  Maydole — over  yonder  at  the 
mine.  This  old  stockholder  has  been  himself  a  fight- 
ing man,  though  a  person  of  under  size.  He  is  a 
man  of  strong  will  and  of  pretty  good  judgment,  but 
he  can  not  express  his  ideas — is  a  man  of  few  words, 
in  fact.  Maydole's  compact  physical  power  attracted 
this  old  man  from  the  beginning,  and  when  he  saw  a 
young  fellow  who  could  talk  forcibly  and  fight  fairly 
he  was  captured,  and  with  him  came  his  whole  fol- 
lowing; and  that  settles  the  business  for  which  the 
meeting  was  called." 

Miss  Judith   listened  to  this  brief  description  of 
Norman's  success  without  making  any  audible  mani- 


SAND.  191 

festation  of  approval  or  disapproval,  but  her  face  and 
eyes  showed  that  she  had  weighed  every  word  of  it. 

"  Is  he  to  return  to  the  mines?"  she  asked,  at  length. 

"Certainly,  if  he  wishes  it.  But  what  he  ought  to 
do  is  to  study  law.  His  father  was  right  when  lie 
said  he  wanted  to  make  a  lawyer  of  him." 

u  Is  he  not  too  open  and  honest  to  make  a  success- 
ful lawyer?"  asked  madam. 

"  No.  A  lawyer  can  not  be  too  honest.  There  is 
no  field  in  which  honesty  is  more  powerful  than  in 
that  of  law.  I  do  not  consider  Mr.  Maydole  an 'open' 
person  at  all,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  that  word. 
Honest  he  is  to  the  last  limit,  no  doubt,  but  he  has 
inherited,  not  from  his  father,  a  wise  reticence  that 
'still  keeps  something  to  himseP  he'll  scarcely  tell  to 
ony.' " 

Is  it  fair  to  surmise  that  the  shrewd,  successful, 
wealthy  business  father  knew  which  member  of  his 
family  at  the  dinner-table  was  listening  most  atten- 
tively to  his  remarks?  If  it  is  not  fair  to  do  so,  we 
will  not  do  it. 

For  a  fortnight  after  his  speech  to  the  stockholders, 
Norman  Maydole,  Jr.,  had  an  easy  arid  interesting 
season.  Little  by  little  he  gained  access  to,  or,  rather, 
was  invited  into,  the  social  circle  in  which  the  Hoi- 
tens  revolved;  and,  by  way  of  exciting  contrast,  made 
a  large  acquaintance  with  the  men  who  surrounded 
the  u  stubborn  stockholder"  of  saloon  keeping  antece- 
dents. It  was  interesting  to  note  that  the  stubborn 
stockholder,  though  himself  addicted  to  alcoholic 


192  SAND. 

amusements,  was  all  the  more  interested  in  him  on 
account  of  his  invariably  polite  declination  to  accept 
any  of  the  many  invitations  to  join  in  these  amuse- 
ments. In  fact,  the  old  man  gathered  all  he  could  of 
Norman's  brief  history,  and,  as  was  the  case  with 
most  people,  the  more  he  knew  of  the  young  man  the 
better  he  liked  him,  and  he  finally  summed  it  all  up 
in  these  words: 

"  That  young  Mr.  Medule,"  said  he,  for  so  he  would 
always  pronounce  the  name,  "  is  the  biggest  little  man 
and  the  best  boy  on  the  Coast." 

But  though  this  making  of  acquaintance,  this  see- 
ing of  the  city,  and  these  little  triumphs  in  business, 
were  interesting  and  very  important  to  our  hero,  he 
had  still  another,  a  nearer,  a  dearer,  and  more  delicate 
enterprise  closer  to  his  heart.  The  face  and  figure  of 
a  full-formed,  graceful  young  woman  traveled  before 
his  mind's  eye. wherever  he  went.  The  vision  of 
laughing  health  and  womanly  tenderness  led  the  pro- 
cession of  fairies  over  the  carpet  of  roseleaves  in  his 
dreams.  He  did  not  consider  if  he  wanted  to  be  a 
married  man — a  poor  man  married  to  a  presumably 
rich  woman — but  he  did  feel,  and  feel  constantly,  that 
there  was  a  gap  in  his  hopes,  a  vacancy  in  his  ambi- 
tions, which  only  that  young  woman,  and  none  other, 
could  fill.  Whether  to  go  back  to  the  mountains,  or 
anywhere  else,  or  even  to  stay  where  he  was,  without 
seeking  to  know  how  it  misrht  be  between  himself 

O  O 

and  this  young  woman,  was  to  him  the  weightiest  of 
questions.  Oftentimes,  day  and  night,  he  debated 


SAND.  193 

this  great  question  with  himself,  and  as  often  he  found 
it  surrounded  by  difficulties.  Had  the  question  in- 
volved a  physical  risk,  or  a  direct  combat  of  any  sort, 
his  hesitation  would  have  vanished  in  instant  resolu- 
tion. Had  it  involved  only  patient  toil,  or  length 
and  strength  of  endurance,  he  could  have  met  it  with- 
out much  debate.  Perhaps,  if  in  his  estimation  the 
young  woman  could  have  been  duplicated — which  he 
did  not  at  all  believe — he  could  have  seen  his  way  out 
by  learning  from  the  loss  of  one  how  to  possess  him- 
self of  the  other.  To  him,  though  he  well  believed 
the  world  to  be  full  of  young  women,  the  case  resolved 
itself  into  life  or  death  on  a  single  shot.  In  this 
dilemma  it  came  into  his  memory  that  he  had  an  old 
letter  from  his  dear,  dead  friend,  Judge  Clayton,  which 
had  some  advice  on  a  subject  kindred  to  the  one  now 
haunting  his  mind.  He  opened  the  old  letter,  and 
the  familiar  handwriting  of  the  dead  Mentor  told 
him  this : 

41  At  any  time  when  you  are  in  doubt  about  how  you  shall  act 
where  your  honor,  or  the  honor  of  your  friend,  is  concerned,  con- 
sider the  facts  involved  as  thoroughly  as  may  be,  then  arm  your- 
self with  the  truth,  jump  into  the  middle  of  things,  and  take  the 
chances.  Never  play  Hamlet — off  the  stage." 

He  folded  the  old  letter,  replaced  it  in  its  time- 
seasoned  package,  and  immediately  repaired  to  the 
room  where  the  fortunes  of  his  manhood  had  begun. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Maydole,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  Nor- 
man entered,  "  are  you  getting  weary  with  city  ways 
and  social  excitement?" 

"  No,  sir.     Do  I  look  tired?"  he  asked  with  a  sad 
13 


194  8  AND. 

smile,  as  he  stood,  hat  in  hand,  before  his   patron. 

"  Well,  I  have  thought  you  do  not  brighten  up 
quite  as  you  used  to  do.  This  climate  does  not  suit 
you,  perhaps,  after  the  dry  air  over  yonder.  Take  a 
seat,  sir." 

"  No,  sir.  Thanking  you  kindly  for  the  invitation, 
I  will  not  sit  down." 

"  Why,  why!  What's  the  matter?"  said  the  Colonel, 
rising  to  his  feet.  "  Has  any  one  in  this  house  offended 
you,  sir?" 

"  No,  indeed !  Far  from  it — very  far  from  any- 
thing of  the  sort.  But  if  you  have  time  now  to  listen 
to  me,  I  will  tell  you;  if  you  have  not  time  now, 
please  appoint  a  time." 

"  From  your  action  I  infer  it  must  be  a  vital  mat- 
ter. What  is  it?"  and  his  last  three  words  were  em- 
phatic. 

UI  am  in  your  house.  I  enjoy  its  hospitality,  and 
I  think  as  between  man  and  man  I  am  bound  to  tell 
you  without  delay  that  I  love  your  daughter — Miss 
Judith  Holten.  If  this  statement  should  displease 
you,  sir,  I  shall  never  sit  down  in  this  house  again 
until  you  invite  me  to  sit." 

At  the  mention  of  his  daughter's  name,  the  Colonel 
wheeled  upon  his  heel  instantly,  and  walked  hastily 
to  the  window,  where  he  stood  in  silence,  seeming  to 
look  out,  for  some  minutes. 

u  Isn't  it  somewhat  sudden — not  to  say  very  abrupt, 
sir?"  he  by  and  by  asked. 

"Yes,  sir.     It  is  abrupt — perhaps  it  is  rude — but  I 


SAND.  195 

have  not  been  able  to  say  what  I  have  just  uttered 
.without  going  at  it  in  this  manner." 

Colonel  Holten,  with  his  face  close  to  the  window, 
was  shaken  with  emotion,  but  no  mortal  has  yet  been 
able  to  say  what  the  nature  of  that  emotion  was. 

"  Does  Judith  know  of  this  interview?" 

"No,  sir!    No,  sir!" 

"  If  I  ask  you  to  sit — what  then?" 

"  Then  I  shall  take  the  earliest  opportunity  to  tell 
Miss  Holten  just  what  I  have  told  you." 

"But  if  1  do  not  invite  you  to  sit?"  he  asked,  still 
looking  out  at  the  window. 

"  Then  I  shall  leave  this  house,  and  not  be  tempted 
by  my  own  feeling  to  abuse  your  hospitality,  and — 
and — I  shall  wait." 

Instantly  the  Colonel  wheeled  about,  walked  to 
where  Maydole  was  standing,  and  extending  his  hand, 
said  : 

"  Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Maydole." 

Norman  sat  down. 

Colonel  Holten  took  his  usual  seat  at  his  desk>  and 
placing  his  spectacles  over  his  eyes  went  quietly  to 
work — or  at  least  seemed  to  go  to  work.  Norman 
waited  in  palpitating  silence.  Finally,  without  rais- 
ing his  head,  the  Colonel  said,  in  a  very  gentle  man- 
ner: 

"  Mr.  Maydole,  if  you  have  anything  special  to  do, 
you  had  better,  perhaps,  go  and  attend  to  it." 

At  this  intimation  Norman  arose  and  left  the  room. 
When  the  young  man  was  gone  Colonel  Holten  laid 


196  SAND. 

bj  his  appearance  of  work,  and  placing  his  elbows  on 
his  desk  put  a  hand  each  side  of  his  face,  and  sat  thus 
in  silence  for  some  time.  What  his  thoughts  were 
may  not  be  known  until  he  sees  fit  to  reveal  them; 
but,  probably,  he  retrospected  his  life,  and  lingered 
at  that  epoch  in  it  when  the  child  now  most  occupy- 
ing his  thoughts  had  come  to  him  from  the  mysteries 
of  Nature  as  a  bright  stimulus  to  his  married  man- 
hood; and  from  that  epoch  his  thought  may  have  fol- 
lowed the  footsteps  of  the  child  along  life's  path  down 
to  the  hour  which  was  then  ugon  him.  Whatever 
may  have  keen  the  subject  of  his  reverie,  he  finished 
it  by  exclaiming: 

"Ah,  me!  Growing  old — growing  old,"  and  so  say- 
ing, arose  from  his  desk  and  left  the  room. 

Gorman  Maydole,  Jr.,  after  leaving  the  presence 
of  Colonel  Holten,  also  left  the  house  and  walked  out 
over  the  hills  which  overlook  the  Bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  continued  to  walk  until  he  had  relaxed  in 
some  degree,  by  physical  exertion,  the  tension  upon 
his  nerves;  then  he  returned  to  the  house  of  the 
woman  he  loved. 

Now  that  he  had  asked  the  right,  and  been  per- 
mitted in  some  degree  to  express  what  he  had  to  say, 
it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  any  opportunity  would 
ever  occur  when  he  could  properly  and  easily  say  it. 
He  was  not  skilled,  nor  by  nature  fitted,  to  prepare 
his  own  way  very  far  ahead  of  him  in  such  matters. 
In  a  matter  of  resistance  or  hostility,  his  way  would 
have  been  plain  before  him — but  this  was  not  that 


SAND.  197 

kind  of  an  affair.  True  it  was  that  he  often  saw 
Miss  Holteii — in  fact,  so  often  that  life  between  them 
seemed  in  danger  of  settling  down  into  a  brotherly 
and  sisterly  existence,  a  state  not  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  development  of  the  stronger  passions.  Your 
true  love,  like  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  "  suifereth  vio- 
lence, and  the  violent  take  it  by  storm" — but  it  is  a 
peculiar  kind  of  violence.  How  he  sped  with  his 
love-making  is  not  for  the  present  historian  to  record. 
Of  course,  many  of  us,  graybeards  and  others,  know 
that  true  love-making  calls  for  courage,  but  not  for 
that  kind  of  courage  which  comes  properly  under 
such  title  as  "  sand."  It  may,  however,  be  here  re- 
corded that,  having  "found  once  a  pliant  hour," 
Mr.  May  dole,  Jr.,  said  close  to  the  ear  of  the  woman 
he  loved: 

"Judith,  will  you  be  rny  wife — some  day?" 

And  she  answered,  "  Some  day." 

With  a  happy  heart,  brighter  prospects,  and  an 
increase  of  both  salary  and  responsibility,  Norman 
Maydole,  Jr.,  made  haste  away  and  away,  across  the 
boisterous  bay,  up  the  long  slope,  and  down  the  brief 
descent  of  the  mountains — away  and  away  among  the 
weird  houseless  hills  and  mirage-haunted  deserts,  to 
the  industrious  carton,  where  the  familiar  roar  of  the 
thundering  stamps  greeted  him,  as  of  old,  with  a 
mighty  welcome.  There  let  us  leave  him  to  work 
out  the  next  volume  of  his  life-story  among  the  hardy, 
hard-handed  men,  who,  whatever  may  be  their  faults 
and  failings,  have  always  a  high  respect  for  a  clean 
man  who  has  the  SAND. 


BIG  JACK  SMALL. 


BIG  JACK    SMALL. 


You  do  not  know  Big  Jack  Small?  That  is  a  bad 
omen;  because  if  you  did  know  Big  Jack  Small,  you 
would  know  many  things  which,  as  I  think,  you  do 
not  now  know — for  Jack  would  be  sure  to  talk  to 
you,  if  you  met  him,  and  in  his  talk  he  would  be 
quite  as  sure  to  tell  you  something  about  teaming 
with  six  or  eight  or  ten  yokes  of  oxen,  and  two  or 
three  or  four  great  red  wagons,  over  the  hills,  across 
the  valleys,  and  through  the  bare  rock-walled  canons 
of  the  State  of  Nevada. 

That  is  his  profession — ox-teamster;  or,  as  he  calls 
it, "  bull-puncher."  Not  one  of  your  common  farmer 
boys,  who  can  drive  one  yoke,  or  two  or  even  four 
yokes,  of  oxen,  with  a  long  limber  fishing-pole  stock, 
and  a  lash  that  hangs  down  like  a  dead  garter-snake 
speared  through  the  eyes;  but  a  regular  graduate  of 
the  science  of  ox — a  bovine  persuader — with  a  bil- 
liard-cue whip-stock,  and  a  lash  on  it  like  a  young 
boa-constrictor,  and  a  little  steel  spike  in  the  lash-end 
of  the  stock  about  as  big  as  a  carpet-tack  when  it 
stands  on  its  head  on  the  point  of  a  walking-cane. 
With  the  yellow  leather  lash  wound  round  the  stock, 
the  great  square  braids  shining  like  scales,  as  of  the 
brazen  serpent  Moses  set  up,  and  the  glittering  steel 
tongue,  sparkling  in  the  sunlight,  out  of  the  serpent's 

199 


200  BIG   JACK    SMALL. 

head — with  this  awful  wand  in  his  hand,  and  elevated 
diagonally  above  his  head,  Big  Jack  Small  will  stand 
in  the  highway  of  the  desert,  the  chief  of  the  ox- 
magi;  while  his  meek-eyed  and  clicking-footed  com- 
pany draw  slowly  round  him,  at  the  proper  distance 
and  with  regular  step,  straining  the  great  red  creak- 
ing wains  after  them  in  a  true  circle.  "  Come  row-a-d, 
boys!  You  Turk!"  sharply  to  the  near-side  wheel-ox, 
because  an  ox-teamster  always  turns  on  a  haw-pull 
unless  compelled  to  do  otherwise — u  Come  row-a-d, 
boys!  Steady,  now — like  a  Freemason  funeral!"  and 
he  elevates  or  depresses  the  glittering  tongue  of  the 
serpent  above  his  head.  The  oxen  know  what  that 
means,  and  the  whole  long  procession  winds  about 
him  with  mathematical  precision. 

That  is  the  way  Big  Jack  Small  does  it.  He  is  an 
artist.  Why  does  not  some  brother  artist  go  forth 
and  canvas  him?  He  is  worth  preserving,  as  the  pic- 
ture of  a  true  American,  void  of  European  or  classic 
taint — a  strong  American,  cairn  and  humorous  in  the 
hardest  struggles,  through  the  very  thrill  and  tickle 
of  abundant  life  and  pure  mountain  air.  Tall? — no; 
he  is  not  so  very  tall.  About  six  feet,  or  half  an  inch 
less  than  that.  Head  well  set  upon  his  shoulders, 
with  an  inclination  to  one  side,  as  if  to  give  room  for 
the  big  whip  on  the  other  shoulder;  while  his  soft 
slouched  hat  inclines  just  in  the  opposite  direction,  as 
if  to  equalize  things  and  maintain  a  perpendicular 
outline.  No  coat  on.  Woolen  shirt — in  winter  three 
of  them,  one  inside  the  other;  heavy  vest  buttoned 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  201 

to  the  chin,  or  to  somewhere  hidden  under  the  long 
flow  of  the  lion-colored  beard.  Legs  clad  externally 
in  thick  white  ducking  or  buckskin,  terminating  in 
coarse  boots  drawn  over  the  trousers  bottoms.  Hands 
cased  in  rough  buckskin  gloves.  So  dressed,  Big 
Jack  Small  may  not  be  a  very  large  man,  but  he  looks 
large.  When  he  walks  from  you,  you  are  impressed 
with  a  broadness  of  shoulders  and  strength  of  neck 
and  loin.  When  he  walks  toward  you,  you, are  made 
conscious  of  the  coming  of  great  thigh  muscles,  and 
fists,  and  a  lion-like  front;  and  you  would  not  have 
any  rash  impulse  to  rush  upon  him  for  the  fun  of  a 
little  combat.  Then  he  has  a  curious  long  springing 
stride — a  sort  of  dropping  and  rising  upon  his  thigh 
muscles  with  every  step — that  suggests  power;  though 
I  suppose  it  is  mere  force  of  habit,  caught  in  walking 
across  plowed  ground  in  early  life,  and  maintained 
by  striding  over  the  sage-brush  and  loose  rocks  in 
Nevada. 

Big  Jack  Small  has  a  head  under  his  slouched  hat, 
and  a  face  that  shows  between  his  hat-brim  and  his 
beard.  If  you  are  not  in  the  habit  of  looking  at 
heads  and  faces  for  the  purpose  of  forming  your  own 
estimate  of  men,  it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  look 
at  Jack.  You  might  as  well  pass  on.  He  is  of  no 
interest  to  you.  But  if  you  want  to  look  into  a  face 
where  the  good-natured  shrewdness  of  Abraham 
Lincoln  shines  out,  smoothed  of  its  rough-carved 
homeliness,  you  can  accost  Jack  when  you  meet  him 
walking  beside  his  winding  train  down  the  rough 


202  BIG  JACK   SMALL. 

cafion  or  across  the  dusty  valley,  and  ask  him  how 
the  road  is  over  which  he  has  come.  This  interroga- 
tion requiring  some  length  of  answer,  he  will  shout, 
"  Whoa-ooa-ah,  ba-a-ck!"  then  drawing  down  the  great 
iron  handle  or  lever  of  the  brake  on  his  first  wagon,  his 
team  will  gradually  stop.  Now  he  steps  out  into  the 
eage-brush  in  front  of  you,  sets  the  point  of  his  whip- 
stock  carefully  in  the  fork  of  a  bush,  builds  his  arms 
one  on  the  top  of  the  other  upon  the  butt  of  the 
stock,  shoves  his  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
says: 

"  W.e-e-11,  the  road's  nuther  good  nur  bad.  Hit's 
about  tollable  to  middlin'.  Seen  wuss  an'  seen  better." 

"  How's  the  alkali  flat?" 

"  Well,  yer  know  thar's  two  alkali  flats  'tween  yer'n 
Austin.  The  first  one's  a  little  waxy,  an'  t'other'n  's 
a  little  waxy,  too." 

"  Will  our  horses  sink  down  in  the  flats  so  as  to 
impede — that  is,  so  that  we  can  not  get  out?" 

"O  h — 1,  no.  Only  hard  pullin'an'  slow,  hot  work 
— sockiri'  through  the  stiff  mud.  I  hed  to  uncouple 
an'  drop  all  my  trail-wagons,  an'  pull  an'  holler  an* 
punch  round  at  both  o'  them  flats  fer  two  days,  till 
my  cattle  looks  like  the  devil;  but  you  kin  go  right 
along,  only  slow,  though — very  slow.  The  rest  o'  the 
road's  all  right — no  trouble." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  You're  welcome.  But  I  say,  tell  me — I'm  out 
now  about  two  weeks — what's  the  news?  Hev  they 
caught  them  stage-robbers?" 


BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

''No;  they  were  not  caught  when  we  left  Hamil- 
ton." 

**  D — n  'em!  Hev  ye  any  newspapers?  I'd  like  to 
hev  somethin'  to  read  when  I'm  carnpin'  out  on  the 
road — a  feller  gits  mons'ons  lonesome." 

By  this  time  you  have  hunted  out  of  your  traps  all 
the  newspapers  and  parts  of  newspapers,  and  passed 
them  over  to  him. 

"4  Thank  ye.  Git  up,  Brigham!  Gee,  Beecher!" 
The  loosened  lever  of  the  brake  clanks  back  in  its 
ratchet,  the  oxen  slowly  strain  to  the  yokes,  the  great 
wagons  groan  to  the  tightening  chains. 

"  Good-by." 

«  So-'long." 

And  the  slow  dust-cloud  moves  onward,  musical 
with  the  strong  voice  encouraging  "  Beecher "  and 
"Brigham,"  on  the  lead,  to  stiffen  their  necks  under 
the  yoke,  as  a  bright  example  to  the  entire  train. 

You,  passing  on  your  way,  say  to  yourself,  or  com- 
panion: "What  a  fine  face  and  head  that  rough  fel- 
low has;  with  what  a  relish  that  full,  wide  forehead 
must  take  in  a  good  story,  or  survey  a  good  dinner; 
what  a  love  for  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous  there 
must  be  in  the  broad  high  crown  of  that  skull  which 
is  so  full  at  the  base !  "Why,  the  fellow  has  a  head 
like  Shakspeare,  and  a  front  like  Jove!  What  a  pity 
to  waste  so  grand  a  man  in  ignorance  among  rocks 
and  oxen!"  All  of  which  may  be  a  good  and  true 
regret;  but  you  must  not  forget  that  nature  knows 
how  to  summer-fallow  for  her  own  rare  products. 


204  *iiIG    JACK    SMALL. 

You  will  please  to  understand  that  Mr.  Small  is 
his  own  master,  as  well  as  master  and  owner  of  that 
long  string  of  wagons  and  oxen;  and  that  train, 
which  slowly  passes  you,  is  laden  with  perhaps  every 
conceivable  variety  of  valuable  articles,  worth  in  the 
aggregate  thousands  of  dollars,  for  the  safe  convey- 
ance whereof,  over  a  road  hundreds  of  miles  long,  the 
owners  have  no  security  but  a  receipt  signed  "John 
Small."  It  is  safe  to  say  that  nothing  but  the  "  act 
of  God  or  the  public  enemy"  will  prevent  the  sure 
delivery  of  the  entire  cargo — a  little  slowly,  but  very 
surely. 

I  do  not  think  you  will  get  a  just  idea  of  Big  Jack 
Small  and  the  men  of  his  profession,  who  are  very 
numerous  in  Nevada,  without  I  tell  you  that  the  sage- 
brush ox-teamster  seldom  sleeps  in  a  house — does  not 
often  sleep  near  a  house — but  under  his  great  wagon, 
wherever  it  may  halt,  near  the  valley  spring  or  the 
mountain  stream,.  His  team  is  simply  unyoked,  and 
left  to  feed  itself,  until  gathered  up  again  to  move  on, 
the  average  journey  being  at  the  rate  of  eight  miles 
per  day — some  days  more  than  that,  some  less. 

Twice  a  day  the  teamster  cooks  for  himself,  and 
eats  by  himself,  in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  box  of  his 
wagon.  Each  evening  he  climbs  the  side  of  his  high 
wagon — very  high  it  sometimes  is — heaves  his  roll 
of  dusty  bedding  to  the  earth,  tumbles  it  under  the 
wagon,  unbinds  it,  unrolls  it,  crawls  around  over  it 
on  his  hands  and  knees  to  find  the  uneven  places  and 
punch  them  a  little  with  his  knuckles  or  boot-heel, 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  205 

and — and — well,  his  room  is  ready  and  his  bed  is 
aired.  If  it  is  not  yet  dark  when  all  this  is  done,  he 
gets  an  old  newspaper  or  ancient  magazine,  and,  light- 
ing his  pipe,  lies  upon  his  back,  with  feet  np,  and 
laboriously  absorbs  its  meaning.  Perhaps  he  may 
have  one  or  more  teams  in  company.  In  that  case, 
the  leisure  time  is  spent  smoking  around  the  fire  and 
talking  ox,  or  in  playing  with  greasy  cards  a  game 
for  fun.  But  generally  the  ox-teamster  is  alone,  or 
accompanied  by  a  Shoshonee  Indian,  whose  business 
it  is  tp  pull  sage-brush  for  a  fire  where  pine- wood  is 
scarce,  and  drive  up  the  cattle  to  be  yoked. 

In  Jack  Small's  train  there  is  usually  an  Indian, 
though  you  may  not  always  see  him,  as  sometimes, 
when  the  team  is  in  motion,  he  is  off  hunting  rats,  or 
away  up  on  top  of  the  wagon  asleep;  but  at  meal- 
time he  is  visible,  sitting  about  the  fire,  or  standing 
with  his  legs  crossed,  leaning  against  a  wagon-wheel. 

The  early  training  of  Mr.  John  Small,  having  been 
received  while  following  the  fortunes  of  his  father  in 
that  truly  western  quest — the  search  after  cheap  rich 
land,  had  been  carried  forward  under  various  com- 
monwealths, as  his  parent  moved  from  State  to  State 
of  our  Union — out  of  Ohio,  and  into  and  out  of  the 
intermediate  States  of  Indiana,  Illinois,  Iowa — until 
lie  dragged  into  the  grave,  and  ended  his  pilgrimage 
in  Nebraska,  while  waiting  for  the  locomotive  of  that 
great  railway  which  was  to  make  him  rich.  A  train- 
ing so  obtained  has  made  Mr.  Small  something  of  a 
politician,  with  a  keen  ear  for  distinguishing  the 


206  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

points  in  the  reading  of  a  State  statute,  and  a  high 
appreciation  of  the  importance  of  State  lines;  while 
the  attempts  at  teaching  and  the  example  of  his  worn- 
out  pious  mother  have  turned  his  attention  to  the  con- 
sistencies and  inconsistencies  of  religious  forms;  so 
that  Mr.  Small's  heaviest  and  highest  thought  dwells 
upon  the  present  State  where  he  resides,  and  the 
future  state  where  he  is  promised  a  residence.  His 
greatest  intellectual  joy  he  finds  in  talking  to  a  poli- 
tician or  a  preacher.  Of  course,  he  has  smaller  joys 
of  the  intellect  in  talking  ox  with  the  other  teamsters, 
or  in  "joshing"  over  a  game  of  cards;  but  he  does 
not  find  solid  comfort  until  he  strikes  a  master  in 
politics  or  a  teacher  in  religion. 

"  "What  I'd  like  to  be  shore  of,"  said  he,  one  day, 
"is  this  yere:  Kin  a  American  citizen  die,  when  his 
time  comes,  satisfied  that  he  leaves  a  republic  behind 
what'll  continue  as  it  was  laid  out  to;  an'  that  he's 
goin'  to  sech  a  country  as  his  mother  thought  she  was 
goin'  to.  Now,  them's  two  o5  the  biggest  pints  in 
Ameriky.  And  dern  my  skin  ef  I  haint  got  doubts 
about  'em  both!  Now,  yere's  a  letter  from  my  sister 
in  Iowa,  an'  she  says  she's  sick  an'  goin'  to  die;  but 
that  she's  happy  because  she's  goin'  where  mother's 
gone,  to  be  happy  ferivver  and  iver.  An'  yere's  her 
husband — he's  a  lawyer,  an'  he's  rejoicin',  in  his  part 
o'  this  letter,  over  Grant's  election,  because,  he  says, 
that  puts  the  Republikin  party  onto  a  sure  foundation, 
an'  secures  the  support  o'  Republikin  principles  fer 
iver  and  iver  in  Ameriky.  Now,  you  see  I've  knocked 


BIG   JACK   SMALL.  207 

round  a  heap — yes,  sir,  knocked  round  a  heap,  an* 
seen  a  good  deal,  an'  seems  to  me  some  people 
knows  a  mighty  sight  for  certain,  on  powerful  slim 
proof.  An'  yere,  my  sister  wants  me  to  be  a  good 
Christian,  an'  my  brother-in-law  wants  ine  to  be  a 
good  Republikin,  when,  ef  3-011  pan  me  all  out,  I'm 
only  a  bull-puncher,  an'  haint  more'n  half  learned  the 
science  o'  that!" 

It  will  be  surmised  from  this  hint  of  Mr.  Small's 
character,  taste,  and  disposition,  that  he  was  highly 
satisfied  when  the  Rev.  L.  F.  Signal  requested  the 
privilege  of  a  trip  with  the  ox-team  for  the  purpose 
of  roughing  it  against  the  dyspepsia.  Mr.  Signal 
said  he  had  been  recommended  to  come  to  Mr.  Small 
as  a  humane  and  intelligent  person,  and  having  heard 
that  Mr.  Small's  wagons  were  loaded  for  a  long  trip 
to  the  south-eastward,  he  would  very  much  like  to 
accompany  him  as  an  assistant,  being  willing  to  rough 
it  as  much  as  his  constitution  would  stand. 

UA11  right!"  said  Jack.  "  Heave  yer  beddin'  right 
up  thar  on  top  o'  the  wagon,  an'  come  ahead.  But,  I 
say,  did  y'ever  play  billiards?" 

••  I  have — yes,  occasionally,  at  the  house  of  a  friend ; 
never  in  any  public  place.  Yes,  sir." 

u  Did  y'ever  play  bull-billiards,  I  mean — with  this 
kind  of  a  cue,  with  a  brad  into  it?  Make  a  run  on 
the  nigh-wheeler  and  carom  on  the  off-leader,  yer 
know?" 

"Ah!  you  mean,  have  I  ever  driven  oxen?  Well, 
no,  sir,  not  in  that  way — though  I  was  brought  up  on 


208  BIG    JACK   SMALL. 

a  farm  in  Pennsylvania,  and  have  drawn  logs  with 
one  yoke." 

"All  right.  I'll  teach  yer  how  to  punch  bulls,  an* 
you  kin  convert  me  an'  the  Injin.  I've  been  wantin' 
that  Injin  converted  ever  since  I  hed  him.  He's 
beerd  a  little  about  Christ,  in  a  left-handed  way,  but 
we'll  go  fer  him,  on  this  trip!" 

Mr.  Small,  while  making  these  remarks,  was  strid- 
ing, with  long  strong  strides,  up  and  down  the  road  on 
either  side  of  his  wagons,  with  whip  on  shoulder,  mak- 
ing all  ready  for  a  start;  looping  up  a  heavy  chain  here, 
taking  up  a  link  there,  and  inspecting — shortening  or 
lengthening — the  draw  of  brakes,  etc.;  while  his  long 
team,  strung  out  and  hitched  in  the  order  of  march, 
were  standing  and  some  lying  down  under  the  yoke,  on 
the  hard  shard-rock  road  beneath  the  hot  summer  sun. 
His  Indian,  ycleped  Gov.  Nye,  was  standing  with  his 
legs  crossed  near  the  ankle,  stoically  watching  the 
preparations,  well  satisfied  for  the  present  in  the 
comfort  of  a  full  stomach  and  the  gorgeous  outfit  of 
a  battered  black-silk  "plug"  hat,  a  corporal's  military 
coat  with  chevrons  on  the  sleeves  and  buttoned  to  the 
chin,*  a  pair  of  red  drawers  for  pantaloons,  a  red 
blanket  hanging,  gracefully  from  his  arm,  and  a  pair 
of  dilapidated  boots  on  his  feet. 

Gazing  bashfully  upon  this  scene,  and  striving  to 
catch  a  word  with  Mr.  Small,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Signal 
turned  his  hands  each  uneasily  over  the  other,  and 
said  : 

"  Mr.  Small,  I  can  not  heave  my  bedding  up  there." 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  209 

"Can't!  Well,  give  it  yere  to  rne;  I'll  h       it  fer  yon." 

u  But  I  have  not  brought  it  yet.  It  is  just  here, 
almost  at  hand,  where  I  lodge." 

'•Well,  well,  rustle  round  an'  fetch  it!  Biz  is  biz 
with  me  now.  I  must  git  up  an'  dust.  Yere,  Gov., 
you  go  him — all  same  me — he  talk.  Take  this  Injin 
with  ycr — he'll  help  yer  carry  what  you've  got." 

u  Thank  you.  You  are  very  kind,  indeed,"  said  the 
reverend,  as  he  marched  oft',  followed  by  the  gorgeous 
red  man,  down  the  steep  street  of  the  mining- town. 

While  he  was  gone,  Mr.  Small,  having  all  things  in 
readiness,  proceeded  to  straighten  his  team  so  as  to 
tighten  the  chains  and  couplings  whereby  the  great 
wagons  are  made  to  follow  each  other,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  sure  that  everything  should  draw  even, 
strong,  and  true.  Presently,  Mr.  Sighal  and  Gov. 
came  panting  and  trotting  round  the  corner,  out  of 
the  street  into  the  road,  each  having  hold  of  the  end 
of  a  roll  of  bedding;  the  reverend  carrying  a  black 
overcoat  and  purple  scarf  on  his  right  arm,  and  Gov. 
having  his  royal  red  blanket  on  his  left  arm. 

Mr.  Small,  taking  the  roll  poised  on  end  on  his 
right  palm,  steadied  it  with  his  left,  and  shot  it  to  the 
top  of  the  high  wagon-box  as  if  it  had  been  a  bag  of 
feathers. 

"Thar,  Gov.,  heap  jump  np — heap  fix  'em — little 
rope — no  fall  off.  You  sabe?" 

"Yasb — me    heap    sabe!"    said    Gov,    tossing   his 
precious  blanket  to  the  wagon-top,  and  slowly  climb- 
ing up  after  it,  over  the  wheel  and  side. 
14 


210  BIG   JACK    SMALL. 

"All  ready,  Parson?"  said   Mr.   Small,   interroga- 
tively, as  lie  picked  up  his 'baton  of  command. 
"Yes,"  timidly,  "I— I— believe  I  am." 
Rapidly  Mr.  Small  strode  forward,  drawling  out  in 
the   indiscribable   rhetoric  of  his  profession,  "  You 
Eo-w-dy!    Turk!    Dave!    Gee,  Brigham!"  then  sud- 
denly, "  Who-o-o-ah — ba-a-ack!" 

u  See  yere,  Parson!     Got  anything  to  eat  aboard?" 
"  No,  sir.     I  have  presumed  I  could  buy  provisions 
at  the  houses  where  we  stop." 

"  Houses,  h — 1!  O,  excuse  me,  Parson.  Thar  liaint 
no  houses  to  speak  of,  an1  ef  thar  was,  bull-teams 
don't  hov  nothin'  to  do  with  houses,  'thont  they're 
whisky-mills."  Then  shoving  up  his  hat,  and  scratch- 
ing his  head  with  a  vigorous  rake  or  two  of  his  hard 
finger-nails,  he  pulled  the  hat  down  on  his  nose,  and 
leaning  back,  looked  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sighal,  and  said, 
"S'yere,  Parson,  I'll  grub  ye,  but  my  grub's  lightnin' 
— beans,  bread,  bacon,  coffee,  an'  can-truck.  You  go 
into  camp,  an'  buy — le'me  see — well,  buy  a  small 
sack  o'  oatmeal,  two  papers  o'  pinoly,  a  pound  o'  black 
tea,  an'  half  a  dozen  cans  o'  condensed  milk.  That'll 
put  ye  through.  Yer  kin  easy  ketch  up  to  the  team. 
Gee,  Brigham!  Git  up,  Dave!  You  Roany!  Bally! 
Haw  thar!  Roll  out!  Roll  out!"  And  the  slow 
line  moves  over  the  rocky  road  at  a  snail's  pace,  the 
wheels  grinding,  almost  imperceptibly,  to  the  top  of 
the  not  large  stones,  and  then  dropping  off  at  the 
other  side  with  a  sudden  fall  and  a  jar.  which,  though 
the  fall  be  but  an  inch  or  two,  makes  the  load  talk  in 


BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

various  voices  as  it  settles  more  firmly  to  its  place. 

Up,  slowly — ah,  so  slowly,  so  dustily! — up  and  up 
the  mountain,  by  the  canon  road,  pausing  at  intervals 
to  breathe  the  panting  herd,  Mr.  Small  grinds  and 
crushes  out  a  solid  shining  line,  with  his  many  wheels, 
in  the  porphyry  and  granite  dust.  The  dry  mountain* 
summits  rise  on  either  hand,  capped  with  the  un- 
daunted rocks,  which  have  defied  the  artillery  of 
heaven  before  man  in  any  color  stood  to  witness  the 
shock — the  rays  of  the  sun  converging  upon  the  head 
of  Big  Jack  Small,  as  he  marches  stoutly  up  the  side 
of  his  team,  to  pause  for  its  clicking  step,  and  then 
up  another  march,  and  then  pausing  again,  lifting  the 
serpent-coiled  baton  above  his  head,  shouting  anon 
the  name  of  some  throbbing  toiler  of  the  yoke.  Thus 
lie  gains  the  summit,  and  halts  to  draw  the  rearward 
brakes. 

uAh,  Parson!  H'ist  them  things  up  thar  to  Gov. 
Gov,  you  fix  'em.  Now  we're  off.  Plenty  time, 
though,  Parson,  to  look  at  the  scenery.  You  see  that 
round  peak  yonder — way  off?  That's  jest  eighty-two 
miles  from  yere.  Can't  see  that-a-way  in  Pennsylva- 
nia, kin  ye?  Gee,  Brigham!  Git  a-a-up!" 

More  rapidly,  and  with  much  clinking  and  clank-, 
ing  of  yoke-rings,  hooks,  and  chains,  and  the  loud 
braying  and  howling  of  the  friction  of  wheel-tire  and 
brake  block,  the  team  winds  down  the  canon  of  the 
opposite  side  of  the  mountain,  the  big  wains  rocking, 
reeling,  and  groaning,  as  they  crowd  each  other  round 
the  curves  of  the  declivity;  and  above  all,  the  driver's 


212  BIG   JACK    SMALL. 

voice  echoing  along  the  canon  the  drawling  words  of 
command  and  encouragement. 

Mr.  Sighal  is  behind,  out  of  sight;  pausing  may- 
hap upon  "some  hold  outcrop  of  earth's  foundation- 
stone,  to  gaze  far  around  and  across  the  uplifts  of  the 
grand  furrows  where  the  forgotten  forces  have  plowed 
the  field  that  now  lies  fallen  in  the  wisdom  of  a  plan 
wise  beyond  all  that  is  yet  written  or  revealed.  O 
servant  of  the  faith,  look  well!  It  is  the  aristocracy 
of  nature  upon  which  you  gaze.  Sublime  it  is  in  the 
reposeful  grandeur  of  its  indifference  to  commerce, 
agriculture,  or  the  petty  avenues  of  human  thrift. 
Locked  in  the  coffers  of  the  rocks  are  the  wages  of 
its  early  days  of  labor.  Stern  and  forbidding  is  the 
giant  land,  sad  and  unsocial;  but  rich  in  the  abund- 
ance of  that  which  renders  even  man  unsocial,  stern, 
and  forbidding. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  the  team  halts  where 
the  water  sinks  and  the  dry  valley  begins.  It  is  but 
short  work  for  Big  Jack  Small  to  draw  out  the  bow- 
pins,  release  his  cattle,  and  drop  his  eight  yokes  in  a 
line,  with  the  bright  heavv  chains  linking  them  to- 

O  •>  O 

gether  in  the  gravel  and  dust. 

Meantime.  Mr.  Sighal  arrives  in  camp  with  each, 
hand  full  of  fragments  of  vari-colored  stone,  he  hav- 
ing tried  hi*  wits  at  prospecting  for  silver. 

"  Hullo,  Parson!  Hev  you  struck  it  rich?"  inter- 
rogated Big  Jack,  as  he  let  down  the  grub-box  and 
cooking  utensils  from  the  wagon-top  to  Gov  Nye 
" That's  a  bad  beginning,  Parson!" 

"  Why  so,  Mr.  Small!" 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  213 

"'Cause,"  said  Jack,  jumping  down  from  the  wagon 
and  coming  up  to  take  a  look  at  the  rocks  in  the  par- 
son's hands — "'cause  ef  you  ever  git  quartz  on  the 
brain,  you're  a  goner!  That  ar  meetin'-house  in 
Pennsylvany  '11  put  crape  on  the  door-knob — shore! 
an'  'dvertiz  fer  a  new  parson.  But  ye'll  not  git  quartz 
on  the  brain— not  much — s'long's  yer  don't  find  no 
better  stones  than  these  yere,"  said  he,  after  examin- 
ing the  collection. 

"Ah!  I  was  merely  guessing  at  the  stones  to  amuse 
myself.  Are  they  not  quartz  fragments?" 

"No  sir  ee,"  said  Jack,  as,  driving  his  axe  into  a 
pine  log,  he  made  the  wood  fly  in  splits  and  splinters 
— "'not  much.  Them's  iron-stained  porphyry,  green- 
stone, black  trap,  an'  white  carb'nates  of  lime.  Hold 
on  till  we  git  across  the  valley  an'  git  a-goin'  up  the 
next  mountain,  'n  I'll  show  yer  some  good  quartz. 
Some  bully  float-rock  over  thar,  but  nobody  haint 
found  nomineyit — never  will,  I  reckon;  I've  hunted 
fer  the  derned  thing  twenty  times.  Yere,  Gov,  git  a 
bucket  o'  water.  Parson,  d'ye  feel  wolfish?"  added 
Mr.  Small,  after  he  had  his  fire  lighted  and  was  pro- 
ceeding culinarily. 

"Wolfish!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Signal,  with  some  sur- 
prise. 

"Yes — hungry,"  explained  Jack,  as  he  sawed  with 
a  dull  knife  at  the  tough  rind  of  a  side  of  bacon,  cut- 
ting down  one  fat  slice  after  the  other  upon  the  lid  of 
the  grub-box  near  the  fire. 

"Not  unusuallv  so." 


214:  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

"Hain't  et  nothin'  sence  morn  in',  hev  ye?" 

"  No;  not  since  early  morning." 

"Must  do  better'n  that!"  said  Jack,  putting  the 
frying-pan  upon  the  fir 

"  I  usually  eat  but  little,  for  fear  of  eating  too 
much." 

u  Well,  s'pose  yer  heave  away  them  rocks,  an'  run 
this  fryin'-pan — jest  fer  appertite.  Notluii'  like  fac- 
inj  an  inemy,  et'  yer  want  to  git  over  bein'  afraid  of 
him!" 

Mr.  Sighal  immediately  complied,  and,  squatting 
by  the  lire,  poised  the  frying-pan  upon  the  uneven 
heap  of  burning  sticks,  in  his  tirst  lesson  at  camp-life. 

"  I  don't  alloiv  yer  kin  eat  much  this  evenin',  as 
we've  only  traveled  half  a  day,  but  to-morrer  we've 
got  to  cross  the  valley  through  the  alkali-dust,  an* 
make  a  long  drive.  Git  a  lot  o'  that  alkali  into  ye, 
an'  you'll  hanker  after  fat  bacon!" 

"All?"  said  Mr.  Sighal,  carefully  balancing  the  pan 
on  the  lire. 

"  Yes,  sir" — with  great  emphasis  on  the  sir.  "Al- 
kali an'  fat  bacon  goes  together  like  a  matched  vokc 

O  O  t/ 

o'  leaders.  Does  thar  seem  to  be  any  coals  a-makiii* 
in  that  lire,  Parson?" 

" The  wood  seems  to  burn;  I  infer  there  will  be 
coals." 

"  Inferrin'  won't  do,  Parson!  We've  got  to  hev 
Jem,  'cause  I  must  bake  this  bread  after  supper,  fer 
to-morrer.  Allus  keep  onebakin'  ahead,"  ejaculated 
Mr.  Small,  as  he  finished  kneading  bread  in  the  pan, 


BIO   JACK    SMALL.  215 

and  quickly  grasped  the  axe,  proceeding  to  break  up 
some  more  wood.  "Yer  see,  Parson,  a  bull -puncher; 
lies  to  he  up  to  a  little  of  every  sort  o'  work,  in  the 
mountains.  Gov,  you  look  out  fer  that  coffee-pot, 
while  I. put  this  wood  on  the  fire.  Drink  coffee,  Par- 
son? No?  Well,  then,  make  yer  some  tea  in  an 
empty  oyster-can — hain't  got  only  one  pot  fer  tea  an1 
coffee." 

"  No,  Mr.  Small,  do  not  make  any  trouble  for  me, 
in  that  way.  I  drink  water  at  the  evening  meal." 

"All  right,  then;  this  hash  is  ready  fer  bizness!" 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Sighal,  sitting  cross-legged  on 
the  ground,  received  the  tin  plate  and  rusty  steel 
knife  and  fork  into  his  lap  from  the  hand  of  Mr. 
Small,  and  then  Mr.  Small  sat  down  cross-legged 
opposite  him,  with  the  hard  loaf  of  yellow  yeast- 
powder  bread,  and  the  sizzling  frying-pan,  between 
them,  surrounded  by  small  cotton  sacks,  containing 
respectively  salt,  pepper,  and  sugar. 

"Now,  Parson,"  said  Mr.  Small,  "pitch  in!" 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Small,"  said  the  parson,  "w.ill 
you  not  permit  me  to  ask  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
this  frugal  repast?" 

"Certainly!"  assented  Mr.  Small,  snatching  off  his 
hat,  and  slapping  it  on  the  ground  beside  him.  Then 
happening  to  note  quickly  the  Indian  sitting  listlessly 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  he  said:  "  Yere,  you 
Injin,  take  off  yer  hat;  quick." 

"  Yash — heap  take  'em  off,"  said  the  obeying  Indian. 

"Now,  Parson,  roll  on!" 


216  IJIG    JACK    SMALL. 

The  reverend,  turning  his  eves  skyward,  where  the 
wide  red  glory  of  the  setting  sun  was  returning  the 
eternal  thanks,  offered  the  usual  mild  and  measured 
form  of  thanksgiving  and  prayer  for  the  Most  High's 
blessing  upon  the  creature-comforts,  at  the  end  of 
which  he  replaced  his  hat;  but  Mr.  Small,  being  too 
busy  with  his  supper  and  with  cogitation  upon  ihe 
new  style  of  etiquette,  and  being  careless  about  his 
head-covering  in  camp,  neglected,  or  omitted,  the 
replacement  of  his  hat;  which  state  of  the  case  both- 
ered the  "  untutored  savage"  as  to  his  own  proper 
behavior,  whereupon,  lifting  his  cherished  "plug" 
from  the  earth  lie  held  it  in  his  hand,  brim  up,  and 
grunted  interrogatively: 

"  Uh,  Jack,  put  um  hat  on?  No  put  urn  hat  onl- 
ine no  sabe!" 

"  Yes;   put  um  hat  on." 

"Uh!  yash,  me  heap  put  nm  hat  on.  All  right — 
all  same  inodisum  (medicine)  White-a-man.  Heap 
sabe!"  and  relapsed  into  silent  observation. 

The  parson  did  not  enjoy  his  supper.  II is  day  had 
been  one  of  tiresome  nervous  preparation  for  a  new 
kind  of  lite;  but  Mr.  Small  was  in  hearty  sympathy 
with  all  nature,  which  includes  a  good  appetite  (if  it 
is  not  founded  upon  a  good  appetite),  and  lie  ate  with 
a  rapid  action  and  a  keen  relish,  talking  as  he  ate,  in 
a  way  to  provoke  appetite,  or  if  not  to  provoke,  at 
least  raise  a  sigh  of  regret  for  its  absence. 

"Thar!"  said  Mr.  Small, 'with  sighing  emphasis, 
"that  lets  me  out  on  creature-comforts,  in  the  grub 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  217 

line,  till  to-morrer.  Yer  don't  waltz  in  very  hearty 
on  this  grub.  Parson.  All  right;  I'll  bake  yer  an 
oatmeal  cake  soon's  I  git  done  with  rny  bread,  an' 
mix  yer  a  canteen  o'  milk  for  to-morrer's  lunch." 

"Thank  you,  indeed,  Mr.  Small." 

"  Yere,  Gov,"  said  Mr.  Small,  as  he  piled  the  greased 
frying-pan  full  of  broken  bread,  and  poured  out  a  tin- 
cup  of  coffee,  "yere's  yer  hash!" — to  which  Gov 
responded  silently  by  carrying  the  pan  and  cup  to  the 
fire,  and  then  sitting  down  between  them  on  the 
ground,  to  eat  and  drink  in  his  own  fashion. 

u  These  yere  Injins  is  curious,"  said  Mr.  Small,  in 
his  running  commentary  on  things  in  general,  as  he 
actively  passed  from  one  point  in  his  culinary  duties 
to  another;  u  they  wun't  eat  bacon,  but  they'll  eat 
bacon-grease  an'  bread,  or  beef  an'  bacon-grease;  an' 
they  wun't  eat  cheese,  but  they'll  eat  dead  hoss.  I 
b'lieve  the  way  to  conquer  Injins  would  be  to  load 
cannons  with  Limburg  cheese  an'  blaze  away  at 'em!" 

4iAs  the  Chinese  shoot  their  enemies  in  war  with 
pots  of  abominable  smells." 

u  Yes;  I've  heerd  before  o'  the  Chinee  way  o'  mak- 
in'  war,  but  reckon  'taint  the  smell  Injins  keer  fer — 
it's  mighty  hard  to  knock  an  Injin  with  a  smell!  In- 
jins, ieastway  this  yere  tribe,  hain't  got  no  nose  fer 
posies.  They  got  some  kind  o'  superstition  about 
milk  an'  cheese,  though  I  reckon  they  must  hev 
drinked  milk  when  they's  little."  And  Mr.  Small 
chuckled  at  the  delicacy  of  his  own  allusion  to  the 
font  of  aboriginal  maternity. 

"Don't  ver  smoke.  Parson?" 


218  BIG   JACK    SMALL. 

"Not  of  late  years,"  replied  Mr.  Sighal;  and  paced 
up  and  down  meditatively  past  the  tire,  gazing  at  the 
darkening  sky.  u  I  formerly  .enjoyed  a  cigar,  occa- 
sionally, but  my  dyspepsia  has  cut  .me  off  from  that 
vice." 

"  Well,  I've  got  this  bread  bak in',  an'  reckon  I'll 
take  a  smoke.  Yere,  Gov,  done  yere  supper?  Scoot 
lip  thar,  an'  throw  down  them  beds,  so  we  kin  hev  a 
seat."  The  silent  and  ready  compliance  of  the  Indian 
enabled  Mr.  Small,  as  he  tossed  the  rolls  of  bedding 
over  by  the  fire,  to  remark:  "Yere,  Parson,  take  a 
seat.  This  yere's  high  style — front  settin'-room,  fust 
floor.  You'll  want  yer  legs  to-morrer,  though  yer 
kin  ride  ef  yer  want  to;  but  it's  powerful  tejus,  rid  in' 
a  bull-wagon."  And  he  sat  down  on  his  roll  of  bed- 
ding to  cut  his  plug  tobacco,  fill  his  short  pipe,  and 
watch  the  process  of  bread-baking  while  he  enjoyed 
his  smoke. 

The  reverend  also  sat  down  on  his  bed. 

The  Indian  sat  on  the  ground,  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  fire,  humming  the  low,  buzzing,  dismal  ditty 
of  his  remote  ancestors. 

The  stars  came  quietly  out  in  the  clear  sky,  and  the 
dry  still  air  seemed  to  listen  to  the  coming  on  of  the 
innumerable  host.  So  still — O,  so  crystalline  still — 
is  the  summer  night  in  Nevada! 

"  Yer  see,  Parson,"  began  Mr.  Small,  after  a 
short,  quiet  consultation  with  his  pipe,  "they  say  'at 
bull-punchin's  plow  business,  but  they  don't  know. 
People  kin  tell  what  they  don't  know  powerful  slick- 


BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

like.  Let  some  o'  them  talk  in'  fellers  what  knows  all 
about  this  business  in  three  squints  from  a  stage- 
coach winder — let  'em  try  it  on.  Let  'em  stand  in 
once,  an'  chop  wood,  build  a  lire,  cut  bacon,  make 
bread  an'  coffee,  an'  so  on,  all  in  the  same  minute — 
air  do  it  faster'n  they  kin  write  it  down  in  a  letter, 
an'  they  wun't  talk  so  much  with  their  mouth!'' 

u  Yes;  I  was  just,  in  the  moment  you  began  to 
speak,  reflecting  on  the  multiplicity  of  your  duties 
and  the  rapid  execution  of  them.  Does  not  your  life 
wear  upon  you  terribly  f 

uNo,  sir.  Hit's  head-work  does  it.  Seems  to  me 
when  a  feller  lies  a  big  idee  in  his  head,  an'  is  jest 
a-boomin'  with  the  futur,  an'  lookin'  forward,  that 
work  doesn't  hurt  him  a  denied  bit.  Hit's  hanging 
back  on  the  yoke  'at  wears  a  feller  out — an'  a  ox,  too. 
When  I  used  to  toller  a  plow,  by  the  day's  work  fer 
wages,  an'  havin'  no  pint  ahead  to  steer  to — no  place 
to  unload  at — I  wasn't  no  more  account  than  a  cripple 
in  a  county  poor  house!" 

"What  is  your  great  aim  at  this  time? — if  I  may 
be  so  impolite  as  to  make  such  an  inquiry  on  so  short 
acquaintance,"  queried  Mr.  Signal,  in  a  soft  voice  and 
balmy  manner. 

u  O,  no;  nothin'  imperlite  about  it.  Open  out  on 
me,  Parson,  when  you  feel  like  it.  I  hain't  got  no 
secrets.  My  great  aim  is  to  play  my  game  up  to  the 
handle.  Every  feller's  got  a  game.  Some's  politics, 
some's  religion,  same's  big  money,  some's  land,  some's 
keards,  some's  wimniin  an'  good  clo'es,  some's  good. 


220  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

some's  bad,"  said  Mr.  Small,  rapidly/  and  punctua- 
ting hit  remarks  with  puffs  of  tobacco  smoke;  -an' 
my  game  is  to  hev  the  best  eight-yoke  o'  cattle,  an' 
the  best  wagons,  an'  pull  the  biggest  load  to  yoke,  in 
these  yere  mountains;  an'  then,"  he  added,  laughing 
•and  stroking  his  long  bronze  beard,  "I  kinder  think 
there's  a  solid  sqnare-bnilt  gal  some'rs  what  I  ain't 
jest  seen  yit,  that's  a-waitin'  in  her  daddy's  front 
porch  fer  a  teller  like  me — an'  the  old  man  he's  gittin' 
too  old,  an'  hain't  got  no  other  children,  an'  he's  jest 
a-walkin'  up  an'  down  under  the  shade-trees,  expectin' 
n  feller  about  my  size  an'  build,  what  kin  sling  ink 
in  the  Bank  o'  Californy  for  about  ten  thousan'  cash, 
honest  money.  How's  that  fer  high,  Parson?"  And 
Mr.  Small  roared  with  his  loudest  laugh,  until  the 
parson  and  Gov  joined  sympathetically. 

"A  very  laudable  endeavor,  Mr.  Small;  and  let  me 
say  that  I  heartily  wish  you  God-speed." 

"Amen,  Parson!  I  don't  know  ef  I  kin  make  it. 
But  that's  my  game;  an'  ef  I  can't  make  it — well, 
liit's  better  to  hev  a  game  an'  lose  it  than  never  to 
play  at  all.  Hain't  it,  Parson?" 

"  It  surely  is.  No  good  endeavor  is  ever  entirely 
lost.  God,  in  His  great  providence,  gives  germinat- 
ing power  to  the  minute  seed  of  the  plant  which  grew 
and  died  last  year,  though  the  seed  may  have  blown 
miles  away." 

"  Do  you  b'lieve,"  said  Mr.  Small,  after  a  long 
pause,  in  which  he  raised  the  hake-kettle  lid  with  the 
point  of  a  stick,  and  piled  more  hot  coals  upon  the 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  221 

top — "do  you  b'lieve,  fer  certain — dead  sure — that 
God  looks  after  all  these  little  things?" 

"Surely,  Mr.  Small.  Have  we  not  the  blessed 
promises  in  the  good  book?" 

"  I  don't  jest  reck'lect  what  we've  got  in  the  good 
book.  But  do  you,  as  yere  mammy's  son — not  as  a 
parson — do  you  b'lieve  it?" 

"  If  I  at  all  know  my  own  thoughts  and  convic- 
tions, Mr.  Small,  I  do." 

After  a  long  pause  and  strict  attention  to  the  bak- 
ing bread:  u  Parson,  gittiri'  sleepy?" 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Small." 

"Thinkin'  'bout  somethin  ,  p'r'aps?" 

"I  was  reflecting  whether  I  had  done  rny  whole 
duty,  and  had  answered  your  question  as  fully  as  it 
should  be  answered." 

il  Well,  whenever  you  feel  sleepy,  jest  spread  your 
lay-out  where  you  choose,  an'  turn  in.  Needn't  mind 
me.  I'll  fuss  round  yere  an'  smoke  a  good  while  yit. 
Thar  hain't  no  ceremony  at  this  ho-tel- — the  rooms  is 
all  fust-class  'partmerits." 

''Thank  you,  Mr.  Small,"  said  Mr.  Sighal;  and 
then,  after  some  pause,  resuming  audibly  the  thread 
of  his  own  thought,  he  asked:  uMr.  Small,  do  not 
you  believe  in  the  overruling  providence  of  God?" 

"Which  God?" 

"There  is  but  one  God." 

UI  don't  see  it,  Parson.  On  this  yere  Pacific 
Coast,  gods  is  numerous — Chinee  gods,  Mormon  gods, 
Injin  gods,  Christian  gods,  an'  the  Bank  o'  Californy." 


222  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

"Perhaps  so,  Mr.  Small — it  is  written  there  bo 
gods  many;  but  there  is  one  only  true  God,  Jesus 
Christ  the  righteous." 

"Don't  see  it,  Parson." 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Sighal  rose  quickly  to  his  feet, 
and  pulled  down  his  vest  at  the  waistband,  like  a  war- 
rior unconsciously  feeling  for  the  girding  of  his  armor. 

"  Do  you  deny  the  truth  of  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
Mr.  Small?" 

"I  don't  deny  nothin',  'cept  what  kin  come  before 
me  to  be  reconized.  What  I  say  is,  I  don't  see  it." 

"You  don't  see  it?" 

"No,  sir!" — emphasis  on  the  sir. 

"Perhaps  not,  with  the  natural  eye-sight;  but  with 
the  eye  of  faith,  Mr.  Small,  you  can  see  it,  if  you 
humbly  and  honestly  make  the  effort." 

k'  I  hain't  got  but  two  eyes — no  extra  eye  fer  Sun- 
day  use.  What  I  can't  see,  nor  year,  nor  taste,  nor 
smell,  nor  feel,  nor  make  up  out  o'  reck'lection  an' 
hitch  together,  hain't  nothin'  to  me.  That's  my 
meanin'  when  I  say,  4I  don't  see  it.": 

"  I  am  deeply  grieved  to  hear  you  speak  so,  Mr. 
Small." 

"Now,  look  yere,  Parson,"  replied  Mr.  Small,  as 
he  got  up  to  bustle  about  his  work,  "fellers  like  me, 
livin'  out  o'  doors,  has  got  a  God  what  couldn't  git 
into  one  of  your  meetin'-houses." 

"Mr.  Small — pardon  me — there  is  a  glimmer  of 
what  seems  to  be  meaning  in  your  remark,  but  really 
I  fail  to  comprehend  you." 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  223 

"That's  hit" — it  will  be  observed  as  a  peculiarity 
in  Mr.  Small's  language  (a  peculiarity  common  to 
unlettered  western-born  Americans)  that  he  sounds 
the  emphatic  form  of  the  pronoun  it  with  an  aspirate 
// — "that's  hit!  That's  the  high-larnt  way  to  say,  '  I 
don't  see  it.'  Now  we're  even.  Parson — only  you've 
got  a  million  o'  rncetin'-house  bells  to  do  the  'plaudiu' 
fer  you,  an'  I  hain't  got  nary  one.  But  these  yere 
mountains,  an'  them  bright  stars,  an'  yonder  moon 
pullin'  bright  over  the  summit,  would  'plaud  me  ef  I 
knovved  how  to  talk  fer  what  made  'em.  Hush — 
listen!"  said  Small,  suddenly  pausing,  arid  pointing 
under  the  moonlight  across  the  dim  valley.  "That's 
a  coyote;  I  wonder  which  of  us  he's  laughin'  at." 

"Yash;  kiotee.  He  heap  talk.  Mebbe  so  tabbit 
ketch  um,"  said  the  Indian,  rising  arid  gathering  up 
his  blanket  to  retire.  "Me  heap  shneep"  (sleep). 

"Throw  down  another  stick  o'  wood  off  the  wagor 
Oov,  before  yer  go  to  bed." 

"Yash;  me  heap  shneepy,"  replied  the  Indian, 
stretching  and  yawning  with  uplifted  hands,  from  one 
of  which  his  red  blanket  draped  down  for  a  moment 
over  his  shoulder,  gorgeous  in  the  dancing  camp-fire 
light. 

While  the  Indian  climbed  the  wagon-side  for  the 
stick  of  wood,  Mr.  Signal  remarked:  "Mr.  Small, 
before  we  retire,  may  I  not  ask  the  privilege  of  a  few 
words  of  audible  prayer  to  God  for  His  preservation 
through  the  night  hours?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Yere,  Gov,  come  yere.      I   want  that 


224  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

Injin  to  year  one  prayer,  ef  lie  never  years  another. 
I've  paid  money  when  I  was  a  boy  to  liev  Injins 
prayed  fer,  an'  now  I'm  goiri'  to  see  some  of  it  done. 
Come  yere,  Gov." 

The  Indian  came  to  the  fire-side. 

"Yere,  Gov — you  sabe?  This  a- way;  all  same 
me" — and  Mr.  Small  dropped  upon  his  own  knees  at 
the  side  of  his  roll  of  bedding. 

"All-a-same — Injin  all-a-same — little  stand-up?" 
asked  Gov,  dropping  his  blanket,  and  placing  his 
hands  upon  his  knees. 

i%  Yes!  Little  stand-up — all  same  me!" 

"  Yash!"  assented  Gov,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
roll,  settling  gradually  upon  his  knees. 

It  happened  that  the  parson  kneeled  facing  the  In- 
dian, so  that  the  Indian  had  him  in  full  view  with  the 
fire-light  shining  on  the  parson's  face,  and  not  being 
accustomed  to  family  worship,  nor  having  had  the 
matter  fully  explained  to  him,  he  conceived  the  idea 
of  doing  as  others  did;  so  that  when  the  parson 
turned  his  face  to  the  stars  and  shut  his  eyes,  the  In- 
dian did  so,  too,  and  began  repeating  in  very  bad  Eng- 
lish, word  for  word,  the  parson's  prayer — which  piece 
of  volunteer  assistance  not  comporting  with  Mr. 
Small's  impression  of  domestic  decorum,  caused  that 
stout  gentleman  to  place  his  two  hands  upon  the  In- 
dian's shoulders  and  jerk  him  face  down,  upon  the 
bedding,  with  the  fiercely  whispered  ejaculation, 
"Dry- up!" 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Sighal  prayed  for  the  persons  pres- 
ent,   in    their   various   conditions,   and    their    safety 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  225 

through  the  night;  acknowledging  that  he  knew  God's 
hand  was  in  these  vast  solitudes,  guiding  as  of  old 
the  swoop  of  the  raven's  wing  and  marking  the  death- 
bed of  the  sparrow.  There  was  much  in  the  prayer 
that  was  fervent  and  fitting,  but  nothing  that  could 
be  fairly  called  original. 

"When  the -party  arose  to  their  feet,  Mr.  Sighal  sat 
down,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands  supported  by  his. 
knees;  Mr.  Small  changed  an  unbaked  for  a  baked 
loaf  with  the  bake-kettle;  and  the  Indian,  taking  up 
his  4<  plug"  hat  and  red  blanket,  merely  remarked, 
•'Me  heap  shneep!"  arid  retired  behind  a  sage-brush. 

44  Parson!"  said  Mr.  Small,  after  re  filling  his  pipe 
and  resuming  his  seat,  and  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sighal  sat 
gazing  reflectively  into  the  fire. 

4k  Sir,"  responded  Mr.  Sighal,  with  a  slight  start 
from  his  reverie. 

44  I'm  a-thinkin'  over  your  prayer." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Small,  I  hope  God  will  make  r.:y  hum- 
ble effort  of  some  slight  use  in  opening  to  you  the 
door  of  His  great  mercy." 

44  I  wasn't  thinkirt'  about  it  jest  that-a-way.  I  was 
tryin'  the  sense  of  it  on." 

4;  I  wish,  Mr.  Small,  that  God  had  vouchsafed  to 
me  the  power  of  making  its  meaning  plain." 

44  O,  you  made  it  plain  enough  accordin' to — to — • 
well,  ef  my  motherd  been  yere,  she'd  ha' thought  that 
it  was  a  No.  1  prayer,  an'  she'd  ha'  hollered  'Amen!' 
every  time  yer  went  fer  me  an'  the  Injin;  but  what  I 
was  a-thinkin'  about  was  your  callin'on  Jesus  Christ 
15 


226  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

as  the  Giver  of  all  good,  the  Creator  of  all  things. 
Now — you  excuse  me,  Parson! — right  thar  is  jest 
whar'  I  can't  quite  go  with  ye." 

"  It  is  written,  'the  Word  was  made  flesh  and  dwelt 
among  us,  and  by  it  were  all  things  made  which  are 
made.' " 

"Yes,  I've  read  it.  I  know  hit's  written,  an'  hit's 
printed.  But  written  things  haint  no  deader'n  some 
things  what  haint  been  wrote  yit." 

"  Deader!  deader!"  repeated  Mr.  Sighal. 

"Yes;  dead  sure — certiner." 

"Ah!  I  understand  it  now." 

"  An'  as  fer  printed  things,"  continued  Mr.  Small, 
"  they  crawl  " — then,  observing  the  look  of  perplex- 
ity in  the  parson's  face — "yes!  they  crawl — wun't 
stay  put.  Allers  changin'  with  new  translatin'  an' 
new  lights." 

Here  Mr.  Small  had  occasion  to  look  after  his  bak- 
ing. Ifesurning  his  seat  he  said: 

"  Parson,  ever  been  to  Yosemite?" 

"  I  have  not." 

"  Ever  see  the  Grand  Canon  o'  the  Colorado  Kiv- 
er?" 

"  I  have  not." 

"Well,  Parson,  I've  seen  both  them  places.  I 
resked  my  skelp,  me  an'  two  other  fellers — bully  fel- 
lers them  was,  too! — a-packin'  my  blankets  fer  three 
weeks  in  an'  out  an'  aroun'  the  Canon  o'  the  Colorado, 
jest  to  see  it.  I  b'lieve  I  could  stay  there  feriver  an' 
climb  an'  look!" 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  227 

44 1  have  read  of  the  great  works  of  God  made  man- 
ifest in  the  desert  places." 

"Parson,  that  remark  don't  touch  the  spot!  ^f 
ever  yer  see  that  canon,  yer'll  jest  think  any  printed 
book  yer  ever  opened,  or  any  words  yer  ever  heerd, 
haint  got  no  power  in  'em." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  magnificently  grand." 

u  Parson,  "  slowly  queried  Mr.  Small,  u  do  yer  think 
Jesus  Christ  made  the  Canon  o'  the  Colorado,  an'  the 
world  hit  runs  through,  an'  the  sky  hit  opens  under, 
an'  the  ocean  'at  takes  hits  waters?" 

« I  do. " 

"  "Well,  I  don't  know!  Seems  to  me  thar  was  never 
jiothin'  born  in  Judear  that  hed  hands  that  kin  lay 
over  Ameriky — an'  nothin'  was  never  born  in  Arneriky 
that  hed  hands  that  kin  build  a  ten-cent  side-show  fer 
that  ar  canon !  Parson,  them's  things  that  can't  be 
wiped  out,  nor  wrong-printed  in  no  book! — nor  no 
new  light  can't  make  'em  more'n  they  jest  are! 
Whatever  made  sech  things  as  them,  an'  these  yere 
mountains,  that's  my  God.  But  He  haint  got  no 
hands  in  the  image  o'  these  yere!"  extending  his 
horny  blackened  palms,  and  adding  as  a  climax,  "  ye 
kin  bet  yer  sweet  life  on  that.  " 

"O,  Mr.  Small!"  cried  Mr.  Signal,  rising  to  his 
feet.  **  My  dear  sir,  do  you  wish  to  deny,  and  throw 
away  as  naught,  all  that  the  good  Lord  Jesus,  our 
Divine  Saviour,  has  taught,  and  fall  back  into  heath- 
enism?" 


228  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

"  I  don't  want  to  deny  riotliin'  nor  fall  back  nowhar. 
Ef  Jesus  Christ  teaches  men  to  do  honest  an'  fair,  one 
to  another,  that's  all  right,  an'  I'm  with  Him,  in  my 
style,  sech  as  it  is;  but  when  you,  or  anybody  else, 
asks  me  to  jump  from  that  p'int  into  the  idea  that  He 
made  an'  rolls  creatiow — that  lets  me  out!  . .  .  Thar 
now,  Parson!  I  kinder  understood  you,  because  you 
was  a  parson,  but  you  wasn't  likely  to  understand  me, 
because  I'm  a  bull-puncher.  Now  we  understand 
each  other.  I've  heel  my  say,  an'  I'll  listen  to  any- 
thing you've  got  to  say  on  the  whole  trip,  as  well  as  I 
know  how." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Small,"  said  the  Reverend  Mr.  Sighal, 
taking  Big  Jack's  extended  hand,  u  whatever  may  be 
my  regrets,  I  can  but  respect  the  opinions  of  a  man 
who  respectfully  states  them.  And  I  shall  only  pray 
to  God  to  give  you  a  clearer  light." 

u  That's  all  right,  Parson!  An' now,  as  I've  got 
your  oatmeal  cake  baked  an'  everything  done  up 
brown,  what  do  yer  say  ef  we  roll  out  the  blankets, 
go  ter  sleep,  an'  forgit  it  all  till  mornin'?" 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  retire  at  any  time." 

"  Well,  hit's  a  fine  night,"  said  Jack,  proceeding 
to  untie  the  roll  of  his  bedding,  u  an'  we  needn't  go 
under  the  wagons,  but  jest  spread  down  in  theevenest 
places  we  kin  find." 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Sighal  made  his  first  bed  in  the 
wilderness,  arid,  as  the  mountain  phrase  goes, 
"  crawled  in." 

"Parson,"   said  Mr.  Small,  as  he  sat  in  his  bed 


BIG   JACK    SMALL.  229 

straightening  the  blankets  about  his  feet,  <f  got  plenty 
blankets? — I  kin  spare  ye  pair.  " 

'•Plenty,  thank  yon." 

"  Good-night,  Parson." 

(k  Good-night,  and  God  bless  yon,  Mr.  Small." 

The  bright  moon  and  stars  moved  on  in  their  long- 
appointed  courses  through  the  wide  and  cloudless  sky, 
the  sage-brush  of  the  valley  stretched  far  away,  the 
mountain  rose  ragged  to  the  serrated  summit,  the 
cattle  browsed  along  the  slope,  the  shadows  of  the 
great  wagons  fell  square  and  dark  upon  the  dry  desert 
earth,  and  nature's  ok1,  old  silence  closed  down  upon 
the  wilderness. 

In  the  morning,  Mr.  Signal  awakened  early,  after 
a  sweet  and  refreshing  sleep,  his  lungs  and  whole 
inner  man  toned  up  with  the  dry,  dewless,  fresh  uir, 
to  find  Mr.  Small  far  forward  in  the  preparation  of 
breakfast. 

"  Good-mornin',  Parson!  Did'nt  anybody  disturb 
yer  last  night,  walkin'  on  the  up-stairs  floor,  did 
thar?" 

u Good-morning,  Mr.  Small!  Xo;  I've  had  a  fine 
sleep" — drawing  on  his  wearing  apparel. 

"When  ye  sleep  out  nights  yere,  whar  tliar's  never 
no  dew  fall  in',  hit's  better  n  any  hotel." 

4i  Yes,  sir;  the  air  is  very  refreshing  and  invigora- 
ting, "  said  Mr.  Sighal,  stamping  his  feet  into  his 
boots,  and  shaking  the  creases  out  of  his  pantaloons. 

"Tliar's  soap  an'  a  sort  o'  towel  on  the  wheel  hub, 
an'  ye  kin  take  'em  'an  go  right  over  thar  to  them 


230  BIO    JACK    SMALL. 

wilier-bushes  an'  hev  a  wash,  an'  then  hash'll  be 
ready." 

While  Mr.  Signal  and  Mr.  Small  were  taking  break- 
fast after  the  customary  petition  for  grace,  the  first 
gold  rim  of  the  sun,  with  the  distant  trees  painted  in 
its  halo,  rose  into  view  on  the  top  of  the  far-off  east- 
ern mountains,  and  Gov  Nye,  with  his  red  blanket 
about  his  shoulders,  carne  softly  across  the  nearer 
hills,  the  scattered  cattle  moving  zigzag  through  the 
sage-brush  in  front  of  him. 

"  Now,  Parson,"  said  Mr.  Small,  when  they  had 
finished  breakfast,  "  we'll  roll  up,  tie  up,  an'  h'st  up 
our  beddin';  then  hitch  up  the  bulls  while  Gov  eats 
his  grub,  an'  roll  out." 

While  Mr.  Small,  taking  each  heavy  yoke  in  its  turn 
upon  his  shoulder  and  holding  one  bow  in  his  right 
hand,  walked  up  to  each  off-side  ox  successively, 
dropped  the  end  of  the  yoke  gently  upon  his  neck, 
slipped  the  bow  upward  and  secured  it  to  its  place 
with  the  key,  then  removing  the  other  bow,  rested 
that  end  of  the  yoke  upon  the  ground,  led  the  nigh- 
side  ox  to  his  place  with  the  bow,  and  thus  arranged 
each  twain  in  their  proper  yoke,  Mr.  Signal,  with 
outspread  arms  and  extended  hands,  rendered  amiable 
assistance  in  keeping  the  herd  together. 

"Done  eatin',  Gov?"  said  Mr.  Small,  when  he  had 
stationed  his  horned  troop  in  marching  order. 

"  Yash.     Heap  eat  um  all  up." 

'.'  All  right,"  approved  Mr.  Small,  tumbling  the 
cooking  utensils  into  the  box.  "  No  time  to  wash 


BIG   JACK   SMALL.  231 

dishes  this  mornin.  Yere  Gov,  snail  hold  o'  this 
box.  Now  tumble  up  there  an'  take  it."  And  heav- 
ing the  box  up  after  the  Indian,  he  drew  his  terrible 
whip  from  its  place  between  the  wheel-spokes,  stepped 
to  the  side  of  his  team,  and  letting  go  the  lash,  swung 
it  about  in  the  air  at  arm's-length  in  front  of  him, 
and  then  suddenly  bringing  it  toward  him  with  a  pe- 
culiar jerk,  causing  the  buckskin  snapper  to  go  off 
like  a  revolver,  shouted,  "  Gee,  Brigham — roo-o-al 
out!"  and  the  "  desert-schooners  "  slowly  sailed  away 
into  the  valley. 

Mr.  Signal  marched  afoot,  pausing  to  pick  up  a  pe- 
culiar pebble  and  carry  it  awhile,  then  to  find  a  pebble 
more  peculiar,  and  drop  the  first  to  take  the  second; 
now  to  hunker  down  and  study  the  spikes  upon  a 
sleeping  horned  toad,  then  to  pluck  some  flower  so 
tiny  small  that  it  seemed  but  a  speck  among  the  pulpy 
dry  gravel  and  loose  "earth;  now  turning  face  about  to 
take  in  the  rugged  outline  of  the  mountain  under 
whose  shadow  he  had  passed  the  night,  and  then  lower 
his  vision  to  note  the  sancy  swaggering  strut  of  the 
black  "  prospector, "  the  raven,  walking  down  the 
road  in  the  distant  track  of  the  wagons,  not  failing  at 
the  time  to  watch  the  lizards  flash  across  his  path; 
now  again  trudging  along,  like  Bnnyan's  "  Christian, " 
with  eyes  surveying  the  to  him  unknown  land  in  front 
— the  Delectable  Mountains,  where,  according  to  Mr. 
Small,  he  might  see  some  u  bully  float  quartz.  "  To 
him  the  sameness  of  the  land  was  a  newness:  no  green 
and  gold  of  leaves  that  grow  and  leaves  that  die,  no 


232  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

babbling  streams  through  valleys  grown  with  grass, 
no  heaving  fields  with  squares  of  "thine  and  mine;" 
but  one  wide  waste  of  ashen  gray,  one  cloudless  sun, 
one  wagon-road  across  the  scene,  and  mountains  all 
about. 

Thus  the  time  passed.  Driving  all  clay  in  the  hot 
sun,  with  unhitching,  cooking,  eating,  talking,  pray- 
ing,  cooking,  eating,  and  rehitching  during  the  cool 
evening  and  morning,  and  sweetly  sleeping  through 
the  night.  Dustily  across  valley  after  valley;  slowly 
up  this  side  and  noisily  down  theother  side  of  moun- 
tain after  mountain,  Mr.  Small  pausingon  the  summit 
of  each  to  point  out  to  the  parson  the  prominent 
peaks  as  they  appeared  plainly  to  the  eye  in  a  range 
of  one  hundred  miles — showing,  here  and  there,  far 
awa}*,  their  huge  sides,  where  man  with  all  his  might 
and  genius,  is  boring  mere  gimlet-holes,  from  which 
to  draw  the  bright  white  wealth  that  makes  the  yellow 
glitter  in  the  city's  halls. 

In  the  long  slow  journey,  Mr.  Signal  sought,  by 
easy  lessons,  to  draw  round  the  consciousness  of  Big 
Jack  Small  the  subtile  and  intricate  simplicity  of  his 
own  faith  in  a  personal  God  with  feelings  of  human- 
ity and  feeling  for  humanity,  yet  powerful  to  the  ut- 
most limit  of  all  the  mighty  magnitudes  of  power. 
All  of  which  Mr.  Small  refused  to  see,  a»»d  stoutly 
clung  to  his  own  crude  materialism,  overshadowed  by 
a  wide  Gothic  spirituality,  born  perhaps  of  the  tribal 
tinge  in  the  blood  which  gave  him  his  fair  skin,  high- 
bridged  nose,  bold  gray  eye,  and  long  tawny  beard.  It 


BIO    JACK    SMALL,  233 

was  agaki  the  old  snbtilities  born  of  a  southern  sun 
endeavoring  to  bring  the  wild  Norse  blood  upon  its 
knees  at  the  foot  of  a  Roman  cross. 

The  conversion  of  the  Indian,  which  was  Mr. 
Small's  epecial  desire,  did  not  proceed  satisfactorily. 
It  is  comparatively  easy,  I  opine,  to  build  religion 
upon  civilization;  but  the  labor  must  be  thorough  and 
the  effort  exhaustive  where  there  is  only  the  love  of 
food,  of  passion,  and  of  existence  to  start  on.  Yet  the 
Indian  was  not  without  curiosity,  nor,  being  a  better 
specimen  of  his  race,  was  he  totally  without  the  spirit 
of  inquiry  into  unsubstantial  things.  On  several  oc- 
casions during  the  trip,  he  sought  to  discover  the  ob- 
of  prayer. 

"  Uh,  Jack/'  queried  he,  "  what  for  rnodisum-rnan" 
— he  would  call  the  parson  a  medicine  man— "  what 
for  modisum-inan  all  'er  time  little-stand-up,  shut  um 
eye,  heap  up-talk?  Injin  no  sabe." 

"Thar,  now,  Parson,"  said  Mr.  Small,  "this  Injin 
wants  to  know  why  yer  kneel  down,  shet  yer  eyes,  an' 
talk  up  at  the  sky.  He  says  he  don't  understand  it. " 

"  I  wished  that  I  possessed  a  knowledge  of  his  lan- 
guage, and  could  be  the  means,  under  God,  of  open- 
ing to  him  and  his  people  the  way  to  life  everlast- 
ing." 

"Well,  Parson,  }*ere'sabig  game  fer  yer  to  play. 
Thar's  hundreds  o'  his  kind  in  these  mountains,  an' 
their  lingo  haint  hard  to  learn,  an'  they  haint  hard  to 
teach  about  religion.  Anyhow,  they  learn  to  swear 
an'  cuss,  an'  nobody  kin  do  that  till  he's  been  among 
people  of  a  Christian  country!  " 


234  BIG   JACK    SMALL. 

"Mr.  Small,"  answered  the  parson,  who,  now  that 
he  was  growing  stronger  in  body,  was  more  .aggres- 
sive in  mind,  "there  is  a  sneering  levity  in  your  man- 
ner when  you  speak  of  serious  things  which  pains  me 
to  hear." 

"  Excuse  me,  Parson.  That's  only  my  style,  an' 
style  haint  nothin'  in  this  country.  The  p'int  is  how 
we're  goin'  to  git  light  into  this  Injin — that's  the 
p'int." 

"  I  grieve  to  say,  Mr.  Small,  that  I  am  as  yet  utterly 
unable  to  converse  with  him  in  the  broken  jargon  of 
English  which  he  seems  to  comprehend  when  you 
speak  to  him." 

"  All  right,  then.  Come  here,  Injin.  I'll  try  my 
hand  on  him.  My  mother  alters  wanted  me  to  be 
a  preacher  an'  help  convert  the  heathen." 

The  Indian  came  up  smiling. 

"Yer  sabe  little-stand-up?" 

"  Yash,  heap  sabe — too  much." 

"  Yer  sabe  heap  talk-up?  " 

"Yash.     .Heap  sabe  modisum-man." 

u  Now,  Injin,  me  talk — Big  Jack  talk.  " 

"Waynyo"  (good.) 

"  When  waynyo  man  heap  little-stand-up,  heap 
talk-up  aller  time,  by  um  by,  long  time,  he  heap  old 
man,  heap  die.  Yer  sabe!" 

"Yash;  heap  sabe  die.     Aller  same  Injin  yakwe." 

u  Yes,  by  um  b}r,  die,  "  repeated  Mr.  Small,  scratch- 
ing his  head  through  a  pause,  in  his  doubt  as  how  to 
proceed.  ki  Then,  pretty  soon,  by  um  by,  after  while, 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  235 

waynyo  man  go  up — up" — pointing  to  the  sky — 
"  way,  way  up  yonder,  an' — an'  no  come  back. " 

"No  come  back!"  echoed  the  Indian,  apparently 
deeply  interested  in  the  revelation. 

"No;  no  come  back." 

"  Where  he  go?     No  ketch  um  wick-i-up." 

"  Yes;  fine  house — waynyo  wick-i-up." 

"Heap  work?" 

"No;  no  work. " 

"Waynyo!"  approved  the  Indian.  "Me  no  like 
um  work." 

"  No;  no  work.     Heap  sing — all  time  sing." 

"  Aller  time  sing? "  repeated  Gov. 

"Yes;  all  time  sing,  in  one  big  wick-i-up.  No 
coat  ketch  um ;  no  pantaloons.  " 

"No  pantaroon?" 

"No;  no  pantaloons.  One  big  gown — all  same 
shirt.  All  time  sing;  no  come  night.  Yer  sabe?  " 

"  Yash ;  me  heap  sabe.  Heap  ticcup? "  (food)  earn- 
estly interrogated  the  Indian. 

"No;  no  ticcup.  " 

"  Heap  sequawf 

"No;  no  squaws." 

"  What  yer  call  um?" 

"Heaven." 

"  Ka-waynyo  hebben — no  good!     No  pantaroon,  no 

ticcup.  no  sequaw — ka- waynyo  hebben!     Me  no  like   , 
nm.»  Bancroft  Library 

Notwithstanding  the  solemnity  of  the  subject,  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Sighal  found  himself  shaking  with  re- 


236  BIG   JACK    SMALL. 

strained  laughter  at  Mr.  Small's  first  missionary  effort 
among  the  Shoshonees. 

4'  Thar,  "  said  Mr.  Small,  with  great  emphasis,  "  as 
a  missionary  I'm  a  failure.  Gov,  go  git  some  brush 
fer  the  iire.  But  I'll  not  give  that  Injin  up!  I'il  go 
fer  him  again  when  I  haintgot  nothin'  else  to  do," 
added  he,  going  about  his  usual  camp-work. 

Mr.  Sighal  took  a  walk  around  the  camp,  apparently 
giving  the  whole  matter  up  as  being  beyond  his 
present  influence. 

The  camp  to  which  Big  Jack  Small's  freight  was 
consigned  was  a  new  one,  and,  of  course,  the  last  days 
of  the  trip  led  the  team  over  newly  broken  roads, 
which  fact  increased  the  labor  of  Mr.  Small,  and  gave 
to  his  face  and  language  a  somewhat  serious  expres- 
sion. During  the  last  day's  drive  before  corning  to 
camp,  the  road  was  particularly  uneven,  and  on  the 
down-grade  caused  the  iong  high  wagon-boxes  to  reel 
to  and  fro  like  boats  at  sea.  Often  the  wagons,  de- 
spite the  strong  friction  of  the  howling  brakes,  pressed 
upon  the  cattle  and  crowded  them  upon  each  other  en 
masse.  Then  again  the  hindmost  wagon,  in  making 
a  turn,  encroached  so  far  upon  the  inner  side  of  the 
circle  that  the  brake  must  be  let  up  to  avoid  sliding 
farther  and  overturning,  as  a  rolling  wheel  slides  less 
than  a  wheel  which  is  locked. 

On  one  of  these  sideling  turns,  on  the  brink  of  a 
shallow  dry  water- wash,  Mr.  Small  was  compelled  to 
stop  his  team  to  prevent  the  overthrow  of  the  rear 
wagon.  As  he  proceeded  to  release  the  brake,  which 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  237 

on  this  particular  wagon  had  its  lever  low  down  and 
between  the  forward  and  hind  wheel,  the  wheels,  from 
the  slight  move  they  made  after  being  released,  set- 
tled the  wagon  just  a  little,  but  far  enough  in  its 
nearly  poised  position  to  turn  it  over  suddenly,  before 
Mr.  Small  could  fly  for  safety. 

Mr.  Signal  had  been  anxiously  and  prayerfully  ob- 
serving, from  the  rear  of  the  train,  the  attitude  of 
things.  He  heard  a  sudden  shout,  a  crash,  and  then 
all  was  silent,  and  Jack  Small  invisible.  The  uncon- 
scious cattle  stood  quietly  in  the  yoke;  Mr.  Signal 
ran  wildly  from  one  side  of  the  wagon  to  the  other, 
endeavoring  to  discover  some  clue  to  Mr.  Small; 
while  the  Indian  walked  gravely  up  from  the  head  of 
the  team,  where  he  had  been  stationed  to  keep  it  in 
check,  and  stolidly  observed,  pointing  to  the  prostrate 
wagon,  "Uh!  one  urn  wagon  heap  ketch  urn  Big 
Jack" 

Mr.  Sighal  looked  in  the  imperturbable  face  of  the 
Indian,  the  Indian  looked  into  the  face  of  Mr.  Sighal, 
and  they  both  looked  at  the  wagon.  Then  the  Indian 
sat  down  upon  the  hill-side,  and  Mr.  Sighal  stood 
pale  and  sad,  turning  his  hands  nervously  through 
each  other,  vainly  trying  to  determine  what  to  do 
next.  Suddenly  he  called  the  Indian,  and  began  ac- 
tively unloading  the  unfortunate  wagon,  with  the  in- 
tention, as  he  afterward  explained,  of  liftinjrit  back  by 
hand;  which  feat,  considering  its  great  size  and 
weight,  was  nearly  as  far  beyond  the  available  power 
there  present  as  to  lift  the  whole  load. 


238  BIG  JACK    SMALL. 

While  thus  fiercely  engaged,  and  urging  the  Indian 
to  increased  exertion  in  the  same  direction,  he  heard 
a  voice  as  of  one  crying  from  the  depths: 

''Hullo,  Parson!" 

"O,  thank  God,  my  dear  Mr.  Small,  you  still 
live!" 

"  Yes  sir.     I  hain't  dead  yit." 

"  Are  you  seriously  injured? — and  do  tell  me  what 
to  do,  Mr.  Small." 

"  Guess  not.  I'm  down  yere  in  the  holler,  but  it's 
mighty  close  quarters— like  a  fishin'-worm  under  a 
board.  Ef  the  wagon-box  don't  settle  down  on  me,  I 
reckon  I'm  'bout  all  right.  What're  yer  doin,'  Par- 
son?" 

"  Unloading  the  wagon,  Mr.  Small." 

UH — 1!  That  haint  no  use.  Git  the  couplin'- 
chains  from  the  other  wagons — but  chock  the  wheels 
fust! — pass  'em  roun'  the  box  from  end  to  end,  'bout 
quarter- way  down  from  the  top;  then  bring  the  ends 
together  on  the  side  'o  the  box.  Sabe?" 

"  I  hope  I  do,  Mr.  Small." 

tk  Then  take  five  yoke  'o  cattle  an'  another  chain — 
an  extry  chain,  more'n  what  would  do  to  hitch  up  fer 
common  with — drive  the  cattle  roun'  to  the  other  side 
o'  the  wagon,  an'  p'int  'em  straight  across  from  the 
road;  hitch  that  extry  chain  into  the  chain  on  the 
wagons,  then  hitch  the  cattle's  chain  to  that  extry 
chain.  Sabe?" 

-'I  think  I  do,  Mr.  Small." 

"  When  'yer  git  that  done,  holler  to  me.     Don't 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  239 

hurry.     Work   right   ahead   as    though   thar   wasn't 
nothin'  wrong." 

The  parson  conscientiously,  yet  with    misgiving, 

went  about  his  task,  and   when  he  had  all  ready,  and 

t  the  cattle  strung  out  at  right  angles  with  the  road,  he 

stepped   up  to  the   prostrate  wagon,  and,  turning  as 

one  who  listens  down  a  well,  he  shouted: 

"Mr.  Small!" 

"Hullo-o!" 

"  I  believe  I  have  done  as  you  told  me." 

"Got  everything  hitched  strong? — don't  want  no 
slips  in  this  game, yer  know! — 'cause  ef  this  wagon- 
box  slides  much,  you'll  have  a  mighty  flat  corpse  to 
preach  a  funeral  on!  " 

"O  dear!  dear!  Mr.  Small!"  exclaimed  the  parson, 
vexed  and  horrified.  "  What  next  shall  I  do? " 

"  Give  Gov  a  strong  bar'l,  if  yer  can  git  one,  or  git 
a  big  stone  if  yer  can't  git  no  bar'l,  an'  place  it  to  the 
edge  'o  the  wagon-box,  so  'at  he  kin  put  it  under 
when  the  cattle  lift  it.  Sabe?" 

u  Yes,  sir.  .  .  .  All  done,  Mr.  Small." 

"  Now,  then,  start  up  the  cattle,  an'  keep  'em  to  it 
when  they  start.  An,' Gov,  you  look  out  an'  heap  fix 
up." 

"  Yash,  me  sabe,"  said  the  Indian,  taking  his  posi- 
tion, while  Mr.  Sighal  gathered  to  himself  the  terrible 
whip,  and  proceeded  to  try  his  powers  in  a  role  in 
which  he  had  faint  hopes  of  success.  He  swung  the 
whip  round  his  head,  briging  the  heavy  lash  with  a 
rake  like  that  of  a  dull  rasp  across  his  own  neck,  and 


240  BIG   JACK   8MAIX. 

shouted  at  the  cattle.  Slowly  they  tightened  the 
chains,  and  then  stood  in  the  pulling  attitude,  but 
pulling  not  one  pound  more  than  just  enough  to 
stretch  the  chains. 

Oxen  which  will  pull  true  enough  in  the  beaten 
track  have  doubts  about  pulling  across  country 
through  the  brush. 

"  Get  up!  Gee!"  shouted  the  Reverend  Mr.  Sighal, 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  trying  in  vain  to  jerk  an 
explosion  out  of  the  great  whip,  as  he  had  seen  Mr. 
Small  do.  "Get  up!  Gee!  Go  'long!"  And  then, 
seeing  himself  unsuccessful,  and  becoming  heated 
with  the  exertion,  he  added,  by  way  of  terror  to  the 
cattle,  "  Confound  you]  Get  up!"  Stiil  the  wagon- 
box  lay  flat  on  the  top  of  Mr.  Small. 

Hearing  a  continued  rattling  of  chains,  and  much 
shouting  with  no  apparent  result,  Mr.  Small  called: 

"Hullo!     Parson!" 

"Sir." 

u  What's  the  matter?" 

"The  cattle  can't  draw  it,  Mr.  Small,"  replied  the 
parson,  sadly. 

"  Can't  draw  it,  be  d d!     Go  fer  'ern  with  the 

brad,  an'  cuss  'em!     They  kin  pull  it  easy  enough." 

"  Curse  them.  Mr.  Small!"  cried  the  parson,  in  a 
voice  of  jtnpressive  solemnity. 

"  Yes,  cuss  'em!  "  shouted  Mr.  Small.  "  I  wish  I 
was  out  there,  d n  'em!" 

'•Mr.  Small,  don't  swear  needlessly.  This  is  an 
occasion  of  life  and  death,"  said  the  parson,  desisting 


BIG    JACK    SMALL.  241 

from  his"  efforts  at  urging  the  cattle,  whereat  he  had 
grown  hot  and  red,  excited  and  vexed. 

"  Well,  well!  never  don't  fret,  Parson!  Better  men 
than  me  ha'  died  in  a  better  cause.  Write  a  note 
an'  send  it  down  to  camp  by  the  Injin — the  boys'll 
come  up  an'  git  me  out,  alive  or  dead." 

"Do  not  think  me  weak  or  impractical,  Mr. 
Small,"  replied  Mr.  Signal,  with  a  determined  ring  in 
his  voice.  "Tell  me  what  to  do  and  I  will  do  it, 
God  being  judge  of  my  intentions." 

"  Can  you  cuss,  Parson?  " 

"  It  is  many  years  since  I  have  uttered  an  oath  of 
profanity.  What  is  it  I  am  to  do? "  asked  the  parson, 
sternly. 

"  Go  round  to  them  cattle,  commence  on  the  lead- 
ers, an  brad  'em  all  with  that  steel  in  the  end  o'  the 
whip-stock — the  way  you've  seen  me  do  it;  then  raise 
the  whip  above  yer  head,  start  'em  on  the  gee  pull, 
an'  jest  lay  your  head  back  an'  cuss  as  loud  an'  strong 
as  you  kin  holler." 

The    reverend  Mr.  Sisrhal  went  round   to  "  them 

cT3 

cattle."  There  was  audible  to  Mr.  Small's  ears  a 
hustling  of  ox-feet  upon  the  earth,  a  creaking  of  ox- 
bows, mixed  with  an  occasional  short  bawl;  then  the 
sound  of  the  parson's  voice  elevated  with  great  ve- 
hemence— arid  the  wagon  slowly  arose  enough  to  per- 
mit Mr.  Small  to  crawl  out  into  the  free  air.  The 
parson  was  still  shouting  at  the  straining  cattle, 
when  Mr.  Small  limped  quickly  to  where  he  stood, 
and  taking  the  whip  from  him  with  one  hand,  ex- 
16 


242  BIG    JACK    SMALL. 

tended  his  other,  which  Mr.  Signal  grasped  in  both 
of  his,  and,  turning  his  eyes,  now  full  of  tears,  toward 
heaven,  eloquently  thanked  God  for  His  great  mercy 
in  the  preservation  of  a  life  which  he  hoped  might 
yet  be  dedicated  to  good  and  holy  works. 

"  Thank  ye,  Parson,"  said  Big  Jack,  as  he  dropped 
his  hand  and  turned  to  the  cattle;  "you're  a  good  one 
— thar  aint  no  go  back  to  you!"  And  then  easing 
the  cattle  back  from  the  pull,  he  said:  "Parson, 
when  I  marry  that  solid,  square-built  gal,  you  shall 
do  the  ceremony,  ef  it  costs  me  a  thousand  dollars  to 
fetch  yer  where  I  am!" 

"  Ah!  Mr.  Small,  this  lesson  should  teach  us  that 
we  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth." 

"  Well,  we'll  take  the  chances,  anyway,  Parson !  " 

What  language  the  Reverend  Mr.  Signal  used  to 
the  catte  is  not  reported  by  Mr.  Small;  the  Indian, 
being  accustomed  to  much  that  he  does  not  fully  un- 
derstand, made  no  note  of  it;  and  the  wide  gray 
silence  of  the  desert  is  no  babbler. 

Once  free,  though  somewhat  bruised  in  the  lower 
limbs,  Big  Jack  Small  made  short  work  of  drawing 
his  wagon  back  upon  its  wheels  and  into  the  road, 
and  slowly  rolled  on  toward  its  destination. 

In  town,  and  his  cattle  corralled,  he  said:  "Now, 
Parson,  ef  yer  don't  want  to  go  to  one  of  these  yere 
lodgin'-houses,  you  jist  pile  in  with  me  under  the 
wagons,  an'  wait  till  I  unload,  an'  then  we'll  roll  out 
agin  somewhere's  else  fer  another  trip." 


BIG   JACK    SMALL.  243 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Small.  I  will,  God  willing,  re- 
main in  this  town  and  go  about  the  work  of  my  Mas- 
ter. How  much  am  I  in  your  debt,  Mr.  Small?" 

"  In  my  debt!  See  yere,  Parson,  that's  too  thin. 
Yer  don't  owe  me  nary  cent.  An'  ef  ever  you  git 
stuck  an'  can't  pull  out,  you  jest  drop  a  line  to  John 

Small, ,  Nevada;  'an  ef  I  don't  double  up  the  hill 

with  you,  then  jest  write  across  a  piece  o'  paper,  '  Big 
Jack  Small's  dead  broke  an'  can't  borrer  a  cent." 

""Thank  you,  Mr.  Small,"  said  the  reverend,  shak- 
ing Big  Jack's  hand.  "  I  will  pray  for  your  well-be- 
ing daily,  and  if  at  any  time  I  can  assist  you,  do  not 
fail  to  summon  me.  Good-night." 

"Good-by,  Parson!  An'  don't  fergit  about  me  an' 
rny  gal — that's  goin'  to  be  a  whack! — shore!" 


